Series 8 One-Shots
by Graveygraves
Summary: This is pretty much what the title says. A collection of one-shots for each episode of the series. Mix of genres, themes and characters. Enjoy.
1. The Silencer

**Series 8 One-shots: The Silencer**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**So anyone who has read my Series 6 and Series 7 one-shots will know what this is about. I take a prompt from each episode and make a one-shot for that specific episode. By request and the encouragement of others I am doing the same for Series 8. I will update as often as I can but I have two things working against me on this: first I have a 3 week old daughter who is keep me busy and tired (so excuse the mistakes but feel free to point them out and I will get them corrected) and series 8 is not showing in the UK yet (so the internet is my best friend at the moment).**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Morgan:** Alright, that is unnecessary roughness, you my Sweet need to settle down.

**Garcia: **I know, I know, I know, I just, I, I thought this would be easier.

**Morgan: **I know so did I.

. . .

Having managed to struggle through the door to the apartment block, Penelope continued to stagger up the steep stairs with her abundance of bags and belongings. Finally at her own front door she learnt awkwardly against the door frame, lifting a knee to the hold the door handle down as she tried to turn the key in the lock. She could just put the bags down, let herself in and then pick them up again, but that would be too easy.

Feeling the door give way, Pen pushed it open, steadying herself so that she didn't fall flat on her face, she entered her apartment. Kicking the door shut behind her she made her way towards the couch and collapsed in a heap of multicoloured plastic, paper and fabric. Sighing deeply she considered moving but was surprisingly comfortable under all her purchases.

As she sat and mindlessly contemplated how long she could stay buried she was startled by the sound of a key turning in her lock. There was only one other person that she allowed free access, Derek Morgan. Flustered, she tried to fight her way out of the bright bundle of bags.

"Whoa Momma, just what have you been up to?" Derek called from the doorway as he took in the less then graceful site of Penelope trying to escape the attack of the carrier bags. He couldn't help but smirk at the sight that was 100% Penelope Garcia.

Straightening her sparkly glasses and adjusting her hair as she righted herself, she smiled sweetly; "Just a little retail therapy my Angelfish."

"A _little_ retail therapy, I think I may argue your definition of little," Derek spoke as he made his way across the room.

Penelope rolled her eyes at his lack of feminine understanding, "When are you men going to learn that size is an irrelevant concept to us women? So Sweet Cheeks, what can I do for you on this fine Saturday afternoon. I will admit it is a huge pleasure to see you but I really wasn't expecting you to make you way over here."

"I can see that," Derek was now sat beside her, and couldn't help having a nose in the nearest bag. Immediately he guessed the contents of the large green bag was more treats for her Godson. JJ frequently joked how the more stressed Penelope got the more spoilt Henry was.

Playfully slapping his hand away from the next bag, a bright pink one that Derek recognised as coming from a rather expensive lingerie boutique, Penelope chided him; "That Hot Stuff is for my eyes only."

Derek pouted, giving Pen his best puppy dog eyes, "Spoilsport."

"You still haven't answered my question. What can I do for you, other than let you see the new additions to my knick knack drawer?"

"I am here to see if you are alright."

Penelope smiled at the genuine look of concern now on his face. She knew what he was angling at, the fact that she didn't cope with change in any way, shape or form.

Losing Emily for a second time in a twelve month period was not easy on any of them. Her being alive and choosing to leave didn't make it any easier to accept then when they had believed she was dead. Either way she was still gone. Nervously Penelope bit her bottom lip as she looked up to meet Derek's dark eyes.

"I miss her."

Derek pulled her into his strong arms, squashing the bags between them, as his kissed her softly on the top of the head, "We all do, but you saw for yourself how happy she is when we went over."

"She was happy here with us too," Pen pouted.

"Now we both know that wasn't strictly true, no matter how hard we want it to be the truth. Emily needed a fresh start. I didn't want to admit that any more than you do, but i have come to accept it."

"A fresh start! How does returning to her old company constitute a fresh start? The same people that got her into the mess she was in last year, the one that nearly got her killed. So much so that we all thought she was dead. And now she may as well be as we never see her," Penelope ranted.

Derek let Penelope move back from him slightly, his arch eyebrow letting her know he thought she was being silly.

"Baby Girl we both know you are getting your knickers in an unnecessary twist here. You can see Emily whenever you like as I know you have that set up in your glorious techno geek way. As for the fresh start Miss Thing we both know what she is doing this time for Interpol is very different to her previous role. She isn't going to end up going toe to toe with some Doyle-esque psycho. You see how much paperwork Hotch has, she'll be desk bound."

"You are just saying that to make me feel better. Hotch sees more than his fair share of action and of the psychos now you mention it. OMG we have to get her back here now," Pen panicked and started rummaging through her bright pink purse for her cell.

"Baby, please," Derek pleaded, rubbing her arm gently, "Will you listen to yourself?"

Turning to face Derek once more, cell in one hand and tears streaking her face she smiled weakly; "I'm being silly aren't I?"

Derek nodded, cupping her face in his strong hands and wiping the tears with his thumbs.

"It's going to be okay, you know that don't you?"

Pen nodded.

"And you know you have got me whatever, I'm not going anywhere, right?"

Pen nodded again.

"Good, so now let's sort out what we are doing for the rest of the day."

. . .

Any change, even a change for the better, is always accompanied by drawbacks and discomforts.  
**Arnold Bennett, writer**


	2. The Pact

**Series 8 One-shots: The Pact**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**I have done Rossi for this but I also plan to do a Morgan/Garcia fluffy one-shot so watch out for that separately from this. I will keep updating these one-shots when I can; Series 8 has just started in the UK now.**

**Sorry this took so long but I wasn't happy with the original ending I wrote, this better but still not as I had hoped. Enjoy. **

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Rossi:** and I go crazy if I have nothing to do.

. . .

Refilling the coffee machine, Dave immediately wiped up the slight water spill. Leaning back against the marble counter, he waited for the machine to do its thing. Scrunching up the cloth he had used and throwing it back towards the sink he let out a huge sigh. He had been awake less than an hour and already he was bored. Glancing round his pristine kitchen, there was nothing more to do. Not that there was much to do in the first place. Mavis, his cleaner, did an amazing job of making his house spick and span, so he rarely needed to do much. In fact it had taken him less than twenty minutes to throw out the unwanted take out from last night and place the single plate, cutlery and wine glass in the dish washer.

Moving away from the spot by the now brewing coffee, Dave got himself a large mug from the overhead cupboard, than he busied himself preparing some toast to accompany the coffee for brunch. He had taken advantage of the weekend and slept in, hoping to catch up for some of the lost hours over the recent weeks. He wasn't overly hungry, but it made for additional clearing up, which would keep him entertained for another five or ten minutes at least. Then he just had to work out what to do with the rest of his weekend, he was sure he would think of something.

Anything.

Pouring a mug full, Dave paused as he took the time to savour the aroma, taking deep breathes of the rich steam. Next he buttered his toast, keeping things nice and simple this morning. Gathering together his food and beverage, Dave made his way towards the small white table and chair he had over looking his vast garden. The Autumnal sunshine dappled the lawn through the leaves that were only just beginning to fall from the trees. The rich colours seeming to reflect the morning sunshine. He could always go out and clear the few leaves that had made their way to the ground since Carlos had visited to maintain the lawn and boarders. That could take at least an hour if he took his time and enjoyed being outside.

Then again if it was outside he wanted then he should grab a few things and head out to the cabin. A trip out there usually helped him to refresh himself. With their hectic work schedule it had been a few weeks since he had got out to his secluded solace. Maybe he could even leave from there for work on Monday morning, really make a weekend of it. He could do a bit of fishing; give Mudgie, his trusted chocolate Lab, some much needed exercise with a few long walks. The woods were picturesque at this time of year. One of his favourite times in fact, yet he didn't feel the urge to pack up and make the drive, not right now. There were things he was supposed to be doing.

Finishing the last mouthful of toast he downed his coffee and headed back towards the kitchen, clearing away before getting a coffee refill.

Slowly Dave headed to his study and fired up his laptop. He did have an editing deadline he should be working towards. Plus there was research and writing to do for another project he was working on. Sending something in this weekend would get his agent off his back, she seemed to fail to understand that this was his hobby. Catching the guys he wrote about was his real occupation. Opening the most recent document, Dave sat down and skimmed over the words on his screen. Though he struggled to focus on them, he wasn't in the right frame of mind to contemplate the various causes of deviant behaviour and how they can be interpreted when matching suspects to profiles.

He could continue his research for the next chapter, but he lacked the inspiration for that too. Closing the lid of the laptop down, his fingers drummed softly on the top as his gaze rested on the scene outside the large window. The outdoors was calling, he needed a break. Gathering up the laptop and some files from his desk he stood to make his move.

Glancing at his watch, the hands on the expensive dial moved slowly, as if they were mocking Dave's lack of activity. He realised how slowly the day was going. There had to be something to keep him entertained.

Standing once more, he wondered around the large house, Mudgie following faithfully behind. As he went from room to room he straightened an odd picture here and there or rearranged items he had arranged on various surfaces. Finally he picked up his cell phone, hoping he may have missed a call, though he knew the whole team were officially on stand down for the whole weekend, due to the number of weekends they had recently missed.

Nothing.

He contemplated ringing Hotch and offering to take Jack out, but knew that his friend would want the precious time with his son. Then Hotch would have pity for him and offer the opportunity for Dave to join them in whatever they had planned. Dave knew he would enjoy it, but it wasn't fair to substitute his own lack of family with Hotch's ready-made one.

Placing the devise in the back pocket of his jeans, Dave scooped up his car keys from their place on the table by his phone. Turning he paused only to grab a jacket before heading out with his laptop and files, he might get some writing done later. Stepping back into the house, he grabbed his already repacked 'go bag' before whistling for Mudgie to join him.

As his Mama use to say 'the Devil makes work for idle hands', this way he wouldn't be idle for long.

. . .

I'm a bit of a workaholic. When I feel like I'm not doing something, it drives me insane.  
**Ashley Greene, Actress and Model**


	3. Through the Looking Glass

**Series 8 One-shots: Through the Looking Glass**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**Okay so this one took so long as I changed my mind over what I was doing and after a long debate with myself I decided I couldn't ignore Blake, so instead I have tackled her head on. Hope you like it, hope it's in character (can't say I'm sure I have sussed her character out yet so winging it a bit here).**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Blake:** By the way, no offence earlier when I suggested you had Aspergers.

**Reid:** None, taken, when did you do that?

. . .

"Penny for your thoughts?" Rossi asked as he slid into the smooth cream leather seat opposite Blake.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Blake vaguely waved the book she held; "Just catching up on a little reading." She smiled softly as she spoke, catching Rossi's inquisitive gaze.

"I'm not an expert on these things but I am fairly sure that the last time I tried reading turning the pages made it a much more pleasurable and successful," Rossi quipped at her expense.

"Sorry?" Blake's eyebrows rose as she questioned his sarcastic comment, letting the book close around her thumb as she held it.

"Well you have been _reading_ the same page since we took off. Now allowing for the fact we do not all have the reading speed of Dr Reid I am still sure you can do more than a page in half an hour. And speaking of our esteemed genius, may I ask why he has warranted your attention throughout the flight?"

Blake slowly lowered her book onto the flat surface in front of her, her lips forming a tight line at Rossi's none too subtle inquiry. Her eyes met his across the table, noting his self-satisfied smirk as she did so. He wasn't going to give up she could tell. Though she believed Rossi should have an idea as to what was bothering her. After all his expression on the flight out, when she had made the forthright comment to Reid about Aspergers, showed he had thought the same as her.

"Okay you have caught me, what can I say?"

"You can tell me what's bothering you? Dr Reid fascinates us all at some point, but I guess you already know that as you have known him for a while as I understand it."

"He is definitely an interesting character," Blake inhaled a deep breath as she spoke, happy to divert the attention away from herself.

"Tell me about it," he started, "Reid presented as my number one fan when we met, quoting my own books better than I could. Too be honest I considered consulting Morgan for advice on obsessional crimes in case he was a stalker in the making. Then I grew to realise he was just Reid."

Alex smiled as she watched Dave adjust himself in the seat to be more comfortable. He crossed his legs over under the table, using his hand to pull his ankle further up his leg. His eyes settled on her, waiting patiently for her response. He made it clear he wasn't going away.

"You got lucky then," Alex began, "Spencer openly questioned my sources during a lecture he decided to sit in on. He was oblivious to the effect it was having on my class as he queried several points. Took me a while to come back from that with my students, though they became the best discussion group I have ever had. No-one worried about questioning the validity of what was presented to them after that."

"That sure sounds like our Doctor."

"Having lectured with Spencer since then I have to admit I admired his straight forward nature."

"But?" Dave questioned with a quirk of his eyebrows.

"But nothing," Alex replied curtly.

Dave repositioned himself, leaning forward, his fingers interlaced in front of him, resting on the table for support; "Do correct me if I am wrong, but does all of this have something to do with your reference to Reid having Aspergers?"

Alex stared at Dave; they had known each other for some time, their paths having crossed on numerous occasions. They tended to be open and honest with each other and had got along well. She knew he would not let this drop.

"I have apologised for that comment, it was insensitive and . . ."

" . . . Honest," Dave interrupted, "And let me guess he was neither offended nor aware of what you had inferred."

"You are correct, but that doesn't make it ok."

"No, I agree," Dave settled back, happy that the slight physical pressure he had applied by moving forward had caused Alex to open up and continue talking.

"With what?"

"Both the possibility of Reid having Aspergers and that the comment was unnecessary," Dave lowered his voice,"Though you were only saying what most of us have thought for a while and not voiced. He has some classic traits. For example Reid has obvious problems relating to others and has the stereotypical poor eye contact characteristic of people considered on the spectrum. A lot of the social mechanics he has learnt over time, making him appear a little less awkward, but it doesn't mean he understands such social niceties."

"Higher functioning autistics, such as those classed with Aspergers, are often capable of masking many such difficulties in attempts to normalise themselves in a society where they realise they are considered different."

"True," Dave nodded as he agreed with her, "you only need to take in his use of language to be fooled into thinking he is more competent then he is."

"Yes," Alex agreed, "but he still has difficulties with communication, for example Spencer's literal interpretation of language, just because he is verbally capable doesn't mean he hasn't got deficits in his social, reciprocal and conversational language."

Dave nodded, mulling it over.

"That said there are those that believe the increase in people with ASD is part of the evolutionary process," Alex continued, "Traits which are currently seen by society as different or abnormal will be considered strengths in the future, especially higher functioning Aspergers. They tend to be good problem solvers, truth seekers - all admirable qualities. It is undeniable that Spencer's attention to detail is invaluable in this job. I admire a lot of Spencer's qualities."

Glancing over his shoulder at his young colleague squirreled away in the corner devouring a thick aged edition of some book that Dave didn't recognise, Dave turned back to Alex and smiled; "I don't know about all that, all I know is we wouldn't have him any other way."

Alex nodded, lifting her book before she stood and made her way over to Spencer. Within minutes they were engrossed in a conversation relating to what he was reading.

Dave settled back and closed his eyes, wondering if Alex Blake was as aware of her own traits as she was of Reid's.

. . .

"When you're different, sometimes you don't see the millions of people who accept you for what you are. All you notice is the person who doesn't."  
**Jodi Picoult, **_**Change of Heart**_


	4. God Complex

**Series 8 One-shots: God Complex**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**I love a little bit of Morgan and Reid and so the flight section with the two of them was bliss for me and couldn't be ignored. However this isn't a Morgan/Reid one-shot. I have to say though I am enjoying the series I am not finding the episodes as easy to write for so bare with me.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Morgan:** Ok Kid out with it.

. . .

As he sauntered back through the bullpen Derek had a smile on him like a Cheshire cat. He didn't know why the thought of Spence Reid finding himself a girlfriend made him feel so warm and fuzzy inside, but it did. There was something deeply satisfying in the idea of Pretty Boy being loved up.

Rounding the final desk before taking the short set of stairs to the walkway, Derek shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder. He didn't plan on staying long, after all Hotch had uttered those magic words on their arrival back at Quantico – "Go home!" However there were a couple of things in his office he needed to grab before he left.

Entering his personal space he was startled by Penelope perched on the edge of immaculate desk. He had assumed she had either already left or stayed in her lair, where he was going to swing by on his way out to check.

"What's up Baby Girl?" he asked, noting the expectant look on her face and she shifted around. He could kind of guess the reason she was there, but didn't want to jump to any conclusions.

"Did you get chance to talk to our Boy Wonder?" Pen jiggled with excitement as she spoke.

He nodded as he dropped his bag down and reached into one of his desk drawers looking for his cars keys that he always left behind when they went away. Derek tried to keep the smile to himself because if Pen saw it then it would only encourage her to dig further.

"And . . . ?"

"And nothing, Angel," he replied, straightening himself Derek planted one strong hand onto the desk so that he could lean forward and tap Penelope on the end of her nose – trying to reinforce the idea that she should mind her own business.

Pen pouted her ruby red lips, hoping to convince him to share.

Derek had to smile some more as he shook his head, "You my little Tweety Pie need to know when to keep your beak clean."

The little stamp of her foot demonstrated the level of frustration she felt; "Really D, I was expecting more from you, but he blew you off didn't. You got nada from our favourite genius. I knew I should have set Rossi on the case; his interrogation skills are far superior to yours. "

Derek knew what she was doing, she was trying to goad him, dent his alpha male pride, but it wasn't going to work. He could resist the Garcia guilt trip – he hoped!

"You're so right Sweet Thing, he told me nothing," which wasn't a direct lie, Reid hadn't verbally said anything, though his body language had shouted volumes to the trained profiler, "All I know is the kid is the happiest I have seen him in a long while, so leave him be and when he is ready he'll introduce us to the lucky lady."

"A-ha," Pen jumped from her spot on Derek's desk, "So there is woman on the scene, I knew it, my ultra honed feminine intuition rarely lets me down." Stalking towards Derek, her eyes narrowed as she fixed her stare on him, "And you Buster know more then you are letting on, spill or I will cause untold damage to your credit score."

Derek held his hands up in surrender, "Honest Baby I know nothing other than what I saw and that was a happy Reid."

Stamping her foot again Pen spun away from Derek, who she had manage to back up against the office wall, her arms slapping against her thighs as they dropped down, "Grrr, that is no good to me, I need details, how else am I going to do a background check to ensure her suitability for my favourite genius?"

Derek should have guessed what she was up to, moving forward tentively, he spoke in a soothing voice in hope he could calm her; "Baby Girl you know that's not necessary."

"Not necessary!" she snapped back, spinning on her turquoise heels to face him once more, "How can you say it is not necessary. You should be more than aware of the sick puppies that lurk out there. I only want to protect him; I would hate to see Spencer getting hurt."

Derek enveloped her into a huge bear hug, kissing her gently on the top of her blonde curls, "Baby you cannot protect everyone, no matter how hard you try. Reid's a cautious kind of guy I am sure he has taken every possible precaution to ensure he is not dating a psycho."

"But he is so naive," she pleaded as she lifted her head, "I don't want strumpet taking advantage of him."

Derek had to laugh, "Does Reid look the 'strumpet' type to you? We both know she will be some professor with umpteen degrees who's willing to sit up all night discussing quantum physics."

"Oh great," Pen sighed, as she extracted herself from Derek's arms, "Now I have images of a mad professor!"

Derek shrugged his shoulders, admitting to himself that he wasn't going to win this one.

"Hey P where you going?" he called as she reached his office door.

"I know which payphone he used, I am going to trace calls from it within the time frame that Spencer used it so that I can get a number. From that I can get all I need to know about our mystery lady," then she disappeared.

"Oh no you don't," he called. Derek shot after her, amazed by how fast she could move in a set of heels.

. . .

Curiosity is one of the great secrets of happiness.

**Bryant H. McGill, author**


	5. Good Earth

**Series 8 One-shots: The Good Earth**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**I have to admit I didn't like this episode other then the end that this prompt came from – and that bit was uber cute. Yes I know its Garcia again in this one but what can I say other then I love writing her. So this is a bit of fluffy Halloween fun.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Henry: **E = MC2

. . .

"Okay Buddy, let's get sorted as you and me have some yummy treats to track down," Pen smiled at her young Godson curled up on the dark coloured couch. She didn't need to be a profiler to interpret the child's body language. His arms were folded tightly over his little chest; the pout that adorned his cute face rivalled anything she could ever muster. She had been trying to persuade him to join her for half an hour and it wasn't going well.

Pen rustled over in her festively black outfit and plonked herself down next to Henry, not ready to give up just yet.

"I am going to look pretty silly out on the streets collecting candy on my own; I really need an uber cute sidekick to up the bounty."

"No," Henry replied turning his head defiantly away from his favourite Auntie.

Sitting back and studying the surly toddler Pen realised this was going to be more of a challenge then she had originally thought. Admittedly JJ had tried to tell her that Henry had developed an excessive fear of the Halloween celebrations due to over hearing conversations that he shouldn't. But he would usually do anything for Pen, in the way that children tend to behave for Aunts when they won't for their parents.

Pen doubted there was a member of the BAU team that would question the existence of real life monsters. They tackled them on a daily basis. However the youngster's fertile imagination had taken the common comparison literally and settled on the idea that Halloween was the one night of the year that those very monsters could circulate undetected. Which made sense really, especially when you consider the origins of the event, not that Pen was going to explain that to Henry. This was hard enough as it was.

Getting up she made her way through to the kitchen, leaving Henry watching his cartoons. She wasn't surrendering, just regrouping for the next attack.

"Sorry JayJe, I tried," Pen shrugged disappointingly as she spoke, "He really isn't giving in to any of it is he?" Penelope slumped onto the stool at the breakfast bar, head in hands.

JJ shook her head as she passed her friend a coffee that she had just poured. They had popped home in a last ditch attempt to get Henry out of the house. Will had wished them luck as he had left for work.

"There has to be something we can do to convince him to come out, even if it is only to the office and round the desks there. It would be a start," JJ sighed.

The two women stood in silence, sipping their hot beverages, contemplating what they could try next. As they did they could hear the Scooby-Doo theme tune in the background, Henry singing along. Obviously he had relaxed since he'd been left alone.

Suddenly, placing her red mug on the surface, JJ spun towards Pen; "I've got it."

Pen stared at her friend, eyes wide in anticipation, but no explanation came. Instead JJ shot through to the lounge. Pen tottered behind on her black stiletto shoes, intrigued by JJ's outburst.

"Hey Baby," JJ spoke softly as she perched on the heavy wooden coffee table in front of her son, who automatically tried to look round his Mom at the TV screen. Reaching behind JJ grabbed the remote and paused the cartoon, gaining her son's attention. When he was looking at her JJ tried again to start a conversation.

"Henry, I know why you don't want to go trick or treating."

"The monsters," Henry whispered.

"Yeah the monsters," JJ reiterated, "Well I have a challenge for you."

Henry gave his mother a puzzled looked – his young mind already suspicious.

"You know what Mommy does at work, right?" JJ asked.

Henry nodded; "You and Daddy catch the bad people."

"Right," JJ smiled, leaning forward and taking her son's hands in hers, "And to catch the bad people we have to work out who they are. We call it profiling."

Henry was now captured by his mother's words, engrossed in what she was telling him. His big blue eyes gazing up into hers.

"How about, tonight, while you are trick or treating, you try and work out which are the real monsters and let me and Auntie Pen know who they are. Then we can get them picked up and taken away."

"Forever," the wide eyed boy asked innocently.

"Forever," JJ concurred.

Penelope watched in awe as JJ worked her motherly magic, hugging herself in the process.

"Well in that case Buster you had best get your costume on," JJ encouraged her son to move before he changed his mind.

Henry jumped down off the plush couch and began to run out of the room, however when he reached the door he paused and looked back at his mother and Auntie; "I don't wanna be a pirate anymore Mommy."

JJ sighed thinking that this was another excuse not to go.

Pen stepped forward; "What do you want to be Sweetie?"

"I want to be like Mommy."

"A Profiler?" Pen asked.

Henry nodded eagerly; "Then I can work out which are the real monsters."

JJ and Pen shared a look, wondering how they would pull this off.

"Will got a tie we could borrow, and make him look like Hotch?" Pen thought aloud.

"It's not much of a costume," JJ wrinkled her noise as she spoke.

"No Mommy I want to be Uncle Spence, he's cool."

JJ and Pen smiled at each other, this was so doable. Rapidly the women got to work, dashing off in opposite directions. Pen grabbed Henry's 'Converse' trainers from the hall cupboard as JJ went to find the tan satchel style handbag she knew she had somewhere in her closet.

Henry realised what the two women were doing and ran in to his bedroom. Pulling on the star shape handle he yanked the drawer out and found two bright socks. Henry quickly untangled one from each pair and tried to get them on his feet.

As he did so Pen and JJ bustled into the room with the pieces they had collected individually. JJ placed the bag she had been looking for on Henry's bed and with it a tie from Will's small collection. Soon they had assembled everything they needed. Henry bounced excitedly as he saw the outfit come together. He didn't need an ounce of encouragement to strip off and get into his costume. In fact JJ wished he be this co-operative every morning when she was in a rush getting ready.

Within minutes they were ready to leave and head back to the BAU to share their mini Reid. JJ paused the party to take and send a photo to Will before they left. She was more than a little smug with their success.

"Come on Buddy," Pen slipped an arm around his shoulder, "let's go. JJ I'm going to hitch a ride in the back with our young Genius, I have a finishing touch or two to add." Penelope winked as they made their way to JJ's car.

JJ had to smile, she had no idea what Penelope was up to, and to be honest she didn't care. She was just happy to see her son willing to join in once more.

. . .

The monsters of our childhood do not fade away, neither are they ever wholly monstrous. **John le Carre****, Author**


	6. The Apprenticeship

**Series 8 One-shots: The Apprenticeship**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**Morgan/Reid in this episode made my day! It was close to being as good as the prank war in series 7, they really need to do more with these two.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Morgan:** Hey you act like this is torture. You know there are people who think this is fun.

**Reid: **Believe it or not most of my childhood sports memories aren't altogether pleasant.

. . .

Spence surveyed the brightly lit bar, as both the softball team and the members of the BAU dwindled. Mentally he calculated how much longer he needed to stay as he watched JJ, Will and Henry leave. He had long ago created a formula for such social situations after Garcia had ribbed him about constantly being the first to leave. It involved taking the time from the beginning of the event to the first person leaving and dividing it by the number of people in the group in the first place, then subtracting the average time between successive leavers to find how much longer he should stay. However he had the additional factor of being part of two social groups this evening, which seemed to skew the results.

As he pondered the alterations he needed to make to compute how much longer he would stay, Spence didn't notice Derek arrive at the table the BAU team had shared.

"You ok, Pretty Boy?" Derek asked as he placed another soda in front of Spence, "You still sure I can't get you something stronger to celebrate? It was an epic win today."

Spence shook his head, he had never been a fan of beer and the gaudy sports bar they were frequenting was unlikely to serve a decent brandy which was his one preferred alcoholic beverage. Though he did smile slightly at the thought of having a sporting achievement to celebrate, which was something Spencer never imagined he would do.

Immediately Derek spotted the shy grin on his colleague's face.

"You know I'm proud of you today, Kid," Derek gave a goofy grin as he spoke, a combination of alcohol and genuine brotherly pride taking over, "You really pulled it out of the bag, just when we needed it most. The look on their faces when you hit that ball . . . you sure showed them not to judge a book by its cover."

Spencer's smile grew as he contemplated what Derek said. He couldn't deny how good it had felt today, once he had actually got over the initial shock of actually hitting the ball.

"Come on Pretty Boy, credit where it's due. Even you have to admit the whole game; it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. It definitely wasn't torture."

Spencer shook his head, dropping it slightly to disguise his growing grin. He wasn't ready just yet to admit he enjoyed the experience as he was fully sure 'enjoy' was the appropriate description. Glancing round the room at the rather loud remnants of the FBI's softball team it was great to know he had been a part of that success.

"It was . . . memorable," Spencer eventually admitted, as he met Derek's eyes once more.

"Memorable," Derek muttered to himself, considering the response, "That a good thing?"

Spencer nodded eagerly, for once it was a sporting memory he wanted to keep rather than the numerous ones from his childhood that he would prefer to forget.

"See Kid, I told you it was your lucky day," Derek added smugly as he downed more of his beer.

"That would depend on your definition of luck. By using that term you are indicating that there is not prerequisite skill to playing softball. Rather you just turn up and hope luck is on your side each time."

"Touché, Smart Arse," Derek laughed as he spoke, "okay of there is a certain element of hand to eye co-ordination needed, plus appropriate levels of physical fitness if you are playing competitively. However you proved today that, in the right frame of mind, anyone stands a chance."

"Can you tell my father that next time you see him, though be prepared for him not to believe you after all the time he spent on me in the Little League," Spencer added, his tone had turned bitter and his smile had disappeared.

The words instantly sobered Derek. He knew that Spencer and his father's relationship had completely broken down - which had been the cause of many of Spence's abandonment issues. Derek found it hard to imagine what it must have been like for Spencer, after all he had had a loving relationship with his father that had unfortunately been cut short by that fatal incident.

"I'll do better than that. I'll personally send him a copy of the match report with your name highlighted as Man of the Match. You saved us kid. It's the first time we have beaten those Smucks in five years."

"Only if I can be there to see his face when you do," Spencer's mood lifting slightly at the thought.

"Is that was this is all about? Your father?"

Spencer shook his head; his father was just the tip of the iceberg. There was a long list of people over the years who had made it clear to him that Spencer Reid and sport did not go together.

"Face it Morgan, when you look at me sporting achievements are not the first things that come to mind. Even the FBI had to waiver several physical standards to allow me to graduate basic training."

Derek snickered, Spence had a point, even their colleagues had questioned Derek choosing Spencer.

"Look here, I had faith in you all along. I knew you could do this, that's why I picked you."

Now it was Spence's turn to laugh; "You have to be the first person who has picked me for a team, most people curse when they realise I am the only one left and they have no choice. Are you sure you hadn't tried everyone else first?"

Derek looked offended, "You know, you are pretty harsh on yourself and others."

"As I told you before Morgan, unsurprisingly most of my childhood sport memories are not pleasant."

"Okay, share."

"Please no," Spencer visibly cringed at the idea.

"I'll start," Derek downed a few glugs of his cool beer for courage before continuing, "As I told you before, when I was a Freshman I was a short skinny kid. That year my Mom brought me some new swim shorts, they were red with white stripes down the side. They were a little baggy but Mom assured me I would grow into them. So to cut a long story short I dived in and came back up to the surface, problem was my shorts didn't until a while later. I was butt naked in the pool with the whole class' eyes on me. Embarrassed doesn't cover it."

"Embarrassing is waking up in hospital with concussion, a lump the size of a small melon on the back of my head and my mother frantically panicking that my IQ would be affected," Spencer counter-argued as he tried not to laugh about Derek in the pool naked.

"So what gives?" Derek asked, smirking at the image Spencer had given him.

"I hit myself round the head with a softball bat."

"WHAT!" Derek half choked on his beer, "And you didn't think I should have known that before I put you on the softball team?"

"You never asked, you just told me I owed you. Besides I learnt my lesson and haven't over swung like that since. Apparently it's all in the hips."

Both men laughed and clinked glasses, Spence for once completely forgetting his equation and leaving time, instead relaxing and enjoying the moment.

. . .

Champions are not always the best at what they do. They're the ones who work hardest & persevere when it was time to be counted.

**T Jay Taylor **


	7. The Fallen

**Series 8 One-shots: The Fallen**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**Who could ignore a bit of Rossi for this episode?**

**Sorry this update has taken so long but I have been away for a break with my family. I haven't started the nesxt one yet as I have a challenge piece to work on, then I will be stright back to these.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Amanda:** Ah yes, lives to save, adventures to live. I get it.

**Rossi: **You really don't.

. . .

Softly closing the cover of the first edition copy of his book, 'Evil Never Rests', David Rossi sighed deeply. He looked up from his neat writing desk and directly out the bright window, his fingers interlaced in front of him as his elbows rested on the arms of his chair. The few simple words of the dedication brought with them a flood of memories each time he read them:

_This book is dedicated to Sergeant Harrison Scott and Private First Class Anthony Hernandez, two men who saved me so I could save others._

In a series of brief but vivid flashbacks Dave allowed himself the chance to relive the moment that Hernandez had sacrificed his life so that David Rossi lived. How at the time Dave had not realised what had happened. Hell he wasn't conscious enough to know he was alive let alone the events that had caused it. From the initial gradual return of his memory, it had, in the end, taken years for the truth to come out, but now it had. And it was a truth he had found hard to swallow.

Being in the Marines had changed Dave and he knew it, he was the man he was today because of those years. Without that, he physically shuddered as he thought about where life might have taken him. He had definitely been hurtling down the wrong path prior to his enlistment. This had been his last chance.

His Mama had worried herself sick because of him, literally. Of all her children David Rossi had caused the sleepless nights. And as he had sat by her bedside, her death bed, he had made a solemn promise. He had sworn he would change his life, that he would gain a purpose. He would make his Mama proud. Of course his brothers and sisters had assumed the words were empty, just said to ease a dying women's mind.

Now there were a lot of things David Rossi had been back in those days. He may well have turned his back on the faith his mother had schooled him in, but even he was not willing to risk going back on such a promise. Whether he believed in The Almighty at that time, he was not willing to risk testing the theory.

He had signed up the day after his mother's funeral. At the time it had seemed the most logical option; of course most around him thought it was a knee-jerk reaction. He was grieving and he wasn't thinking straight, he'd regret it. Truth be known it would only have been a matter of time before he would have had to sign up regardless. At least this way it felt like he had made the choice. He had taken a step in the right direction. He would make his Mama proud.

Boot camp had been hard; to be honest that was an understatement. He hadn't cried liked that since he was a baby, but there they broke you only to build you back up again into a real man. He had been worn down, day and night, until he was a shell. Gradually he gained the strength and courage to have pride in himself. Then they had given him the skills he had needed to survive. Not the backstreet tactics he had learnt back home. Now he really knew how to fight.

And fight he did. Alongside his band of brothers, together they became like one. Each watched out for the other, replacing the family he had lost by his previous actions. He knew his Mama would be worried had she have been around to see him go off to war, but at the same time he felt her presents with him when he needed it most. In all the death and horror he was given a second chance. This was not something he was going to waste.

It was a chance that he grabbed with both hands. Even on his return home he believed God had blessed him with an opportunity that he could not waste. How else did you explain surviving a booby trap? Faith restored, Dave continued to better himself. Not willing to slip back to his old ways.

From the Marines he had walked straight into the FBI. He quickly realised he was a natural born profiler. A new bread in the corridors of Quantico, but a natural instinct that had probably saved his life more than once on the streets, and then in dark jungles of 'Nam.

He had become one of a chosen few to head up a new department; an experimental area that based their predictions on the principles of behavioural science. There were no shiny crystal balls or mysterious tarot cards, as many believed. Purely a group of men who had learnt to interpret the actions of others and match them to establish the characteristics of those they hunted.

Now he was actively saving others, as he had once been saved. He was surely making his Mama proud as she watched from her well earned place in heaven. After all how many times had she herself said that she had needed the patience of a saint from the very day David Anthony Rossi had been born. Oh how he had tested that poor woman and pushed her to the limits.

And that was what those pushed him to tell his tales didn't realise. He was living the stories he told. He had faced the very criminals he described. He had seen the horrors they had created. He had been a part of the bloody story they had created. They were not some figment of his imagination, but life's real monsters.

However to his publishers it was all just a money maker, the same as any of a number of crime fiction authors. He sometimes wondered if it even registered with them that this was real life. In his books real people had died, often in horrific ways. Real families had lost those who mattered to them most – husbands, wives and children.

The worst part was that no matter how hard they had tried they could not save them all. There had to be a number of victims before they even began, and often more before they solved it. Learning to live with the failure, the time you got there too late. Writing had only meant to be part of his personal therapy to life he led; he never imagined he would be this popular.

Part of him wanted to take Amanda along next time she was so flippant, see if she could face the reality of what was paying for her BMW convertible. He tried to imagine her picking her way through a bloody crime scene in her ridiculously expensive Prada heels. In fact next time she was breathing down his neck and pretending to understand 'his calling' he may well do that. Then she might understand what a deadline really was.

Gathering up his personal copy of the book, Dave rose and put it into place next to his other volumes on the shelf behind his desk. Each of his nestled below the well worn copies of the books he had studied as he had trained as a profiler. Running his fingers across the dusty issues, Dave smiled. He wouldn't change a thing, other than saving them all.

. . .

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend  
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And I would have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life

**Lyrics from 'How to Save a Life' by The Fray **


	8. The Wheels on the Bus

**Series 8 One-shots: The Wheels on the Bus**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**A little bit of Rossi/Garcia as I though the end seen was fantastic, even though I am a M/G shipper it was great to see her turn to someone other than Derek.**

**This is a little longer than usual for me – hope you like it.**

**. . . **

**Prompt**

**Garcia: **I don't drink scotch.

**Rossi: **You'll learn.

. . .

Squirming on the soft brown leather couch Penelope tried to relax. That had been Dave's final instruction before he left the room. However it was easier said the done.

Penelope felt anything buy relaxed in the opulent surrounds of David Rossi's infamous mansion. In contrast to her quaint little apartment this was rich yet understated. Her apartment was a wash of bright colours and kitsch memorabilia. Where, here, Dave's room was minimalistic yet cosy with just a splattering of personalised objects carefully placed on the deep dark wooden furniture. To the untrained eye Pen's apartment may appear chaotic but everything had its place, just like Dave's immaculate abode. It was just that it was all a lot closer together in her small home.

Readjusting herself yet again, Pen tried to curl her bare feet up under her, she wanted to appear to be making herself at home before he returned.

Scanning her surroundings once more as she awaited Dave's return Pen couldn't help but feel that the lounge, as were the rest of the home that she had seen, lacked a certain feminine touch to transfer it from sleek to homely. What she could do if she was let loose with a Rossi sized budget and a large number of scatter cushions!

"You can lose that look now Kitten as it ain't ever gonna happen!" Dave spoke, startling as he returned.

Flustered Pen tried to straighten her patterned dress as she sat herself upright. "Um . . . Sorry . . . What?"

That was the same look as that Mrs Rossi number three use to have just before she exercised my cheque book and I ended up with a room full of frou frou and fluff. Now I think of it you two would have got on well should you have ever met. Which I assure you for my sanity will never happen."

As he finished speaking Dave passed Pen an expensive crystal tumbler with a small amount of amber liquid resting in the bottom. His own glass held twice as much. He placed a coordinating square decanter on the solid mahogany coffee table.

Penelope sniffed the contents warily as Dave settled into what was obviously a favourite leather arm chair. She watched as he slowly sipped from the contents of his glass. As he held the liquid in his mouth his head lolled back before he leisurely swallowed. You didn't need to be a profiler to realise that this was a man who was enjoying himself right now.

Dave was relaxing, so much so that you could practically see the stress leave his body. It was no wonder that Dave always appeared so chilled. He had obviously perfected the art of relaxation, which was probably why he was still in the job when others had burnt out long ago.

Pen shifted around once more, trying to make herself comfortable on the oversized couch. Holding her breath, so as not to inhale the pungent smell she drew a small amount of the scotch into her mouth. Attempting to hold it as she had seen Dave do, Pen tried to endure the slowly building burn of the alcohol. However instead of swallowing, she spluttered, spraying scotch everywhere as the liquid had scolded her mouth and throat.

"I really don't think I'm a scotch kind of girl," Penelope commented, screwing up her face as she held the offending glass as at arm's length.

"Nonsense," Dave commented as he opened his eyes to see Pen frantically wiping the couch with a pink lace edged hankie. "You just haven't learnt to appreciate it yet. However I can soon rectify that."

And without another word Dave disappeared only to return with an armful of various shape, sizes and colours of bottle. Placing each in line on the coffee table Dave arranged them neatly with the labels facing Pen.

"And so may the lesson begin."

Dave took a moment to finish arranging the bottles in some order, before he tapped the first clear bottle. "This is a fairly standard blended whisky, as the name suggests it is made by blending two or more single malts together with added spirits and water. They are generally served with a mixer as they can be a little harsh." As he spoke he had drained the dregs from Pen's glass then used a napkin to wipe the glass dry before pouring a small amount for her.

Pen hesitated as the glass was offered, after her last experience she had no wish for a repeat.

"Take it and I'll go get some soda for you."

Pen held the glass at arm's length, suspicious of the contents.

Dave returned rapidly and added a splash of clear liquid to the glass. "Bottoms up."

Wrinkling her nose up Penelope tentively put the glass to her lips, "Do I have to?"

He nodded a slight smirk on his face.

Sipping the contents, Pen was glad to find that this was no-where near as bad as the previous drink. In fact she could almost finish this one, if only she had a touch more soda. As she reached forward to top it up a hand landed on hers.

"Oh no you don't, I'm not letting you drown the stuff," Dave stated, "We have all evening. Take your time and enjoy it. Relax, listen to Tony and switch off. When you have finished that we can move onto lesson two."

Dave released Pen's hand and reached for the original crystal decanter and topped up his own glass before leaning back once more.

Penelope continued to sip slowly, letting the music wash over her as the drink warmed her, leaving her feeling slightly fuzzy. She glanced at Dave. She had to admit so far the evening hadn't panned out as she had imagined. Though Dave had offered for them to listen to Tony Bennett and drink 18 year old scotch, she had assumed that would be served with a side of interrogation. Instead she sat and enjoyed the peace.

"Have you finished?" Dave asked after a while, opening one eye, "As you have stopped drinking."

Pen held up the now empty glass, giving it a little wiggle.

"Ah success," Dave said as he leant forward placing his own glass onto the table before he took Pen's and wiped it out once more to start again. "So lesson two is Bourbon. Again this can be drunk straight or diluted with a mixer. Take Morgan for example, he likes his with Coke. Unless it has been a really bad day then I know he takes it straight. Traditionally Bourbons are associated with the States where the blended you just tried is Scottish."

"Urm, I'll mix please."

"Sure thing Sweetheart," Dave said as he prepared the drink.

Pen took this one a lot more willingly, taking a sip and smiling, yep this was drinkable. To be honest she had shared the odd Jack and Coke with Derek before and knew she could, if needs be, drink it. And today was one of those occasions. Once again the pair settled back into a comfortable silence. It surprised Pen how she was content with their lack of chat. Pen thrived on social interactions, it was her substances, yet right now physically removed from her cyber world and encased in the safety of Dave's abode she was blissfully relaxed. Okay maybe the whiskies were helping with that feeling, being on her third in only a couple of hours.

"I assumed you were going to talk to me tonight," Pen murmured her inner thoughts out loud.

"Do you want to talk?" Dave asked, turning his head to face her once more.

Pen opened her eyes and looked at him, she hadn't even realised she'd shut them when she had curled herself up in the corner of the couch. Biting her lip she considered his question, _did she?_ _What was there to talk about?_

She could tell him how confused she was feeling about Kevin. She could tell him how commitment scared her. She could even discuss how afraid she was of losing those she loved. It would be easy right now to confess how fragile she was feeling. How she had wishes of a family and a happy ever after, but didn't feel she deserved it. Maybe even analyses how she was motivated to do what she did in the hope to compensate for the mistakes of her youth.

Or she could sit in silence and enjoy the moment.

Shaking her head Pen muttered a muted no.

"Then that is fine Sweetheart, but please know, if you should ever want to then the door is open."

Pen smiled at the sincerity of his words before settling back, drink in hand and eyes shut, losing herself in the words of the song. She wasn't convinced they would get to lesson three today, but that meant she would have to come back another day to complete the course.

. . .

Love for sale  
Appetizing, young love for sale  
Love that's fresh and still unspoiled  
Love that's only slightly soiled

**Lyrics from 'Love for Sale' by Tony Bennett**


	9. Magnificent Light

**Series 8 One-shots: Magnificent Light**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**Here's a Morgan one-shot. This is set several years before at the Fallen Law Enforcement Memorial that Morgan referred to in the scene. Just my take on what happened.**

**. . . **

**Prompt**

**Morgan:** Baby Girl it wasn't stage fright . . . I wasn't ready to discuss my feelings about my father in public.

. . .

Pulling into the parking bay Derek yanked on the hand-break before settling into a fresh bout of adjusting his pristine uniform.

Derek was officially no longer a Rookie, his probationary period was complete. He was now a fully fledged Chicago town copper. And here he was in his best dress uniform, which he hadn't worn since his graduation. He had been asked to pay honour to his father as part of the memorial service. It wasn't that he hadn't been asked before, but now he wore the same uniform his father had then it was the time to remember his father publically. The Morgans had attended the memorial of all fallen officers each year, joining those who had also lost husbands, brothers, mothers, sisters, cousins and friends.

Removing the keys slowly from the ignition, Derek tried to focus on anything other than his forth coming speech. He had practiced it so many times that he had practically memorised it. Though it wasn't fear of tripping over his own words that troubled Derek today, but the words themselves. Words that he hadn't spoken out loud to anyone, not even his mother.

Leaving the car and walking, with his family, Derek hoped that the shameless mingling would help him to relax a little. But to no avail. Sticking together the Morgans drew a fair amount of attention. Which was no surprise given his father's status within the force. Rank hadn't been important to Bill Morgan. He held several personal qualities in much higher regard. And that was something that had earned him the reputation of the one man you could trust, regardless of what was going on.

Derek stood defensively by his mother's side as several familiar people came to speak to her. Though he recognised many of the people from their annual attendance of the memorial, he couldn't help but wonder where they were the rest of the year. The insincere smiles unmasked the offers of support repeated each time they met.

Hovering by his Mom, Derek admired his mother presence. She had managed all these years on her own bringing up the three of them, and none of them giving her an easy time of it. However she had never given up on them. She didn't need him to defend her, yet he felt he owed her, it was how he had been brought up.

Since his father's passing Derek had become the man of the house. Not that he felt he had done a good job of that, especially not to begin with. However he had been busy making up for it over the last few years. Derek had finally got himself sorted. He had moved on and made something of himself. This was the start of making it all better. His chance to return the unconditional love his parents had shown him.

He had been loved, it was the one undoubtable part of his life. His early childhood memories are filled with loving family moments. His parents had worked hard to make life the best they could. They might not have the abundance of material objects but they had a plethora of memories. Good times to share and reminisce over. Days at the park, weekends camping, learning to decorate his bedroom, tinkering on his Dad's old bike – each of them filled with laughter.

Of course there were tears and tantrums too. They were a normal family not super human. Derek could remember Sarah's first strop over not being able to stay as late at Cassie's as she wanted or how he had got into trouble for bad grades. Des had been too young to really get further then the basic tantrums of a young child each she was told she couldn't have more candy or whatever it was she wanted. But regardless of the cause or what they did, they were loved and they knew it.

Until that fateful day their life had been built on secure foundations. They were encased in a family that nurtured their talents, set firm boundaries and encouraged them to develop valuable qualities such as a strong sense of duty to others. All of which stayed with the Morgan children as they battled through the hard times and worked solidly to become the adults they now were.

And Derek had worked hard to pull himself out of the gutter that he had slid into after his father's death. It had been easy to be angry with the world. Just as easy to use his father's death as an excuse for the things he did that he knew were wrong. However events changed him and it was a series of harsh lessons to learn – bullies at school, trouble with the police then there was _ him!_

Now it was all very different. He was determined to make his parents proud. Derek was aware how worried his mother was that he was following his father's footsteps. However he would also never forget the look on her face as he had graduated basic training, or his first day out on the street. He only hoped his father was just as proud of his decisions.

As the endless polite chit chat died and everyone started to take their seats the memorial ceremony begun. Derek sat on the end of the aisle, his Mom right there beside him. As he listened to the words of others he began to fidget. Nothing obvious – adjusting his tie, straitening the badge on his cap, shuffle of one foot then the other. He only realised what he was doing when he felt his mother cover his hand with hers, squeezing reassuringly.

Fran Morgan was the one person who knew how many times Derek had been asked to do this. She had never once pressurised him into talking to the podium to pay his respects to his father, to be honest she was more of a personal and private person, much like himself.

Derek's turn came around, before he stood she squeezed his hand once more and offered a weak smile. Striding confidently, Derek tucked his cap under his arm as he grasped his notes tightly. Swallowing hard he placed his first foot on the step up to the podium. Placing down his hat and notes Derek gripped the sides of the podium. His eyes glanced the audience, finally resting on his Mom. She nodded encouraging - ever his pillar of strength.

But today that wasn't enough.

Stepping back without having said a word, Derek tried not to run but attempt to walk away with dignity. Talking long strides back down the aisle, he passed his family, ignoring their attempts to reach out to him. He kept on going, as Derek reached the perimeter of the grassed area before the car park, he heard the strong tones of Sarah's voice speaking the very words he had written. She had stood up where he couldn't.

Hitting the roof of his car hard, Derek turned and slumped against the side, barely aware of his mother's presence. Silently she placed an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm sorry. . . I . . ."

"Shhhh," Fran cooed, tip-toeing up to place a kiss on his temple, "Sh Honey, none of it matters. Your just not ready yet."

. . .

"In times of grief and sorrow I will hold you and rock you and take your grief and make it my own. When you cry I cry and when you hurt I hurt. And together we will try to hold back the floods to tears and despair and make it through the potholed street of life"  
**Nicholas Sparks****, **_**The Notebook**_


	10. The Lesson

**Series 8 One-shots: The Lesson**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**This was mainly written late one night, just trying to feel the gap in between the team landing and Reid leaving to meet Maeve. **

**I have finished my challenges pieces so these one-shots will be my priority now.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Maeve:** I want to meet you.

. . .

Clothes spewed out across the restroom floor as Spencer frantically searched for something wearable. He had calculated all possible routes and methods of transport involved in getting home, showered, changed and out to the restaurant in time, but it just wasn't physically possible. No matter what combinations or permutations he tried.

The tube, even without delays would make him over half an hour late. Getting a cab both ways would not be appropriate due to the current levels of traffic at this time if day. Even if he had the courage to tell Morgan what he was up to Spencer doubted that his friends excessive speed driving and shortcuts would get him there in time. It was times like this he wished he had a car but quickly he recalled all the reasons he had for not doing so. Public transport was cheaper, better for the environment, frequently less stressful and on average quicker.

"Focus Spencer" he mumbled to himself as he pulled out the one shirt that he had not worn during the week - now to find what else to wear with it. Quickly he glanced down at the pants he was wearing; they would be fine as they coordinated with the shirt. Plus not changing them would shave seconds of his overall change time.

Tie, he needed a tie. The frantic searching resumed resulting in more random clothing items finding a place on the floor, regardless of whether they were clean or dirty. Pulling out the first tie he found Spencer pulled a face. Even with his limited fashion sense he knew that they were not a match, besides it seemed to have the remains of last night's dinner on it. Hoping for a better option Spencer continued to dig through an array of pants, sweaters and shirts. _Oh why couldn't he be all organised when he packed like neat freak Morgan. _

Eventually he found an alternative and held it up against the shirt. A perfect match at last, now to get ready.

Striping off his current shirt and sweater, Spence dumped them on top of his open erupted bag. Grabbing his wash kit he set about freshening up for the evening with Maeve.

Spencer could count in one hand the number of dates he has been on and as far as he was concerned they didn't get any easier. Yet he felt an added pressure this time.

Maeve and he got on really well. They knew that all ready. They could talk for hours given the chance. He was relaxed with her, he was himself. There had been no pretences. This was something special.

But what point was all of that if she didn't like him physically. Spencer knew all about the science behind falling in love. He had long ago read about the physical chemistry between two people, what some refer to as love at first sight. He had never really believed in such a phenomenon. However he knew that there had been plenty of research into the physical reactions humans have to finding a mate. He couldn't deny it was a contributory factor.

However if love at first sight did exist then surely there was an opposite. Like a hate at first sight. What if that was how Maeve felt when she saw him - if he repulsed her.

Looking in the mirror, his shirt undone and the tie hanging loosely over the top, Spencer remembered Alex's words to him. "Don't psych yourself out". Taking a deep breath Spencer carried on getting ready.

However that was easy for her to say. She wasn't the weird geeky one with hair that was too long and clothes with a mind of their own, _was she?_ She had found her mate, a person who accepted her in every way.

"Come on Spencer, you can do this," he tried as a little pep talk. "Maeve likes you. You have loads in common. She makes you smile and it was her that asked to meet you. That has to mean something, doesn't it?"

Buttoning up the blue shirt Spencer took his time tying his tie in the vain hope that it would stay in its intended place. _Please just this once work, please_, he begged.

Looking at his reflection he decided that there was something missing. Spinning round he returned to his messy pile of clothes. Pulling out the dark blue cardigan he had spotted earlier Spencer swiftly put it on. Then he proceeded to stuff everything back into the bag, handfuls at a time, though it no longer seemed to fit and continued to overflow its confines. Hoping as he did so that he didn't change his mind and want to find something different to wear. Not that he had much of a choice left in the bag, especially now he managed to screw up every item in an attempt at packing.

Spencer shook his head, banishing the though before it took hold and he started rummaging once more. He was fine as he was.

Standing upright Spencer returned once more to the mirror. Examining the reflection he found it hard not to find fault in everything he saw.

Straightening his tie once more Spencer wondered how many times he would complete that action before the night was out. _You never see Hotch with a crooked tie._ For a moment he justified it by feeling it was probably because they were scared of him. Then he realise that he was assigning human emotions to in inanimate object, which he knew was ridiculous and a sure sign of how nervous he was.

His eyes reflected every concern that had floated his mind as he continued to adjust his navy blue tie before commencing fiddling with his hair – _tucked behind his ears or not? May be he should get it cut again? Maybe his Mum and Auntie Ethel were right._

Looking at himself, scrutinising what he had repeated been tormented for over the decades, Spencer faced the fact this was it - now or never as some might. This was who he was, who he had grown to be and there was no changing it. Minor alterations were possible, but they didn't change who he was under the surface.

It was time to go, but not without one last glance in the mirror.

Just a shame in his rush he had left all the evidence of his indecision in one messy pile for the cleaners to find later!

. . .

"We live and breathe words. ... It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them. Reading your words, what you wrote, how you were lonely sometimes and afraid, but always brave; the way you saw the world, its colours and textures and sounds, I felt-I felt the way you thought, hoped, felt, dreamt. I felt I was dreaming and thinking and feeling _with_ you. I dreamed what you dreamed, wanted what you wanted-and then I realized that truly I just wanted you."  
**Cassandra Clare****, **_**Clockwork Prince**_


	11. Perennials

**Series 8 One-shots: Perennials**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**The original M/G shipper in me couldn't ignore this, especially as I didn't think this was such a great episode other then this little moment.**

**And before anyone points it out I know Garcia is a vegetarian but I figure she is like a friend of mine who will not eat meat but has learnt to prepare it for her one true friend and now partner.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Garcia: **Hey if you need someone to help you, you know, put new bindings on, rewrap, wrap or unwrap . . .

. . .

Stretching lazily Derek instantly regretted the action as his body argued against the movement. He still felt sleepy which was surprising given how contently he had slept. The one bonus to the pain killing meds he had been given was a rare full night's sleep.

Moving slowly to try and ease some of the tension in his body, Derek mentally planned out his weekend. Thanks to his injury restoration work was off the cards. No running or gym, though he might fit a walk in with Clooney later, his old pal took things at a much more sedate pace now.

It was as he lay there, contemplating possible activities for the weekend, that he heard the loud bang. Instantly he reacted, hand pulling his gun from his bedside table. Stalking silently along the landing he headed towards the stairs and whoever had invaded his home.

Taking each step with care, he reached the bottom. Clooney wasn't in his favoured sleeping spot. Derek's eyebrows furrowed as his drug addled brain tried to compute the fact that whoever had entered his abode had done so without causing Clooney to bark. In fact they appeared to have a willing accomplice.

Lowering his weapon, Derek begun to put two and two together, his suspicions were confirmed when his nostrils were tempted by the smell of bacon wafting from his kitchen. Stowing the gun away in the hall dresser, Derek shuffled sleepily through to his kitchen to have his suspicions confirmed.

His best friend had plugged her i pod into his docking station as was singing along to the song as she busied herself preparing what looked like enough food to feed an army. Derek leaned against the doorframe and watched the show.

"What do you think you are doing Miss Thing?"

Pen jumped, dropping the bowl which contained her special cinnamon batter mix. The bowl broke, sending its contents far and wide across the tiled floor. Turning to face Derek Pen gulped as she saw him standing in the doorway. His low slung sweat pants hung temptingly off his hips, fully exposing his perfect torso. The image was only marred by the stark white bandage that indicated the injury he had sustained. Pen gulped before she regained her composure.

"I . . . ur . . . I thought . . . um . . . well I came over to rustle up a little breakfast for you, and drop off the cookies I baked last night, and generally check that you are ok."

As she finished speaking she spun back round, rapidly dealing with the food she had already on the go. Cursing slightly under her breath Pen quickly removed the bacon from the grill and place it on a plate in the oven to keep warm. When she turned back Derek was bent down collecting up pieces of broken bowl.

"Oh no you don't Sugar," Pen swooped down beside him, "You have bare feet, you're injured, and I'm here to make your life easier. Now shoo, go on." Pen waved him off, batting him playfully as she did.

Derek made his way over to the breakfast bar. Tugging a stool out he plonked himself down, a sulky look on his face. "I was only trying to help, especially since I caused you to drop it."

But Pen wasn't having any of it, besides it gave her something else to focus on other than his broad bare chest. "I tell you what Angelfish, why don't you go shower and I finish clearing up and sort brunch for you and me."

Derek was half way to the door when he paused, "I would do, but I can't seem to find the fastening on my bandage, and I need to take it off before I shower."

Pen rose to her feet, wiping her sticky hands on her apron before she took a look at the white crape band. "Ah here it is," she exclaimed standing behind Derek, "Must have worked its way round while you slept. Maybe wearing a t-shirt will help."

Derek huffed, "I'm normally butt naked at home; don't know what made me put these on last night. They are usually reserved for when I am away."

Her fingers trembled as she worked; trying to keep out of her mind the image he had just given her. "There you go," she said offering him the end of the binding.

But instead of taking it Derek held both hands above his head, like a child wanting help taking his sweater off. "Thought you offered to rewrap, wrap or unwrap." He gave a provocative wiggle of his eyebrows as he quoted back her offer from the night before.

Sighing Penelope begun to slowly remove the covering, trying to reach round him, as the bandage passed round, without touching him. She gasped as the deep purple bruises revealed themselves on his perfect dark skin. _Oh her poor Baby Boy._ She traced her fingers gently over the marks; "I hate it when one of you gets hurt. It is why I spend my time worrying when you guys are away."

"Mama it is a couple of bruises that's all. Look I'm just fine," as he spoke Derek mimicked Penelope's robotic movements from years previous when she had tried to prove the same point after being shot, "I'm not even signed off from the field."

"That doesn't magically make it all ok though."

Derek lifted her chin; bring her face up to him. Kissing her softly on the forehead he smiled. "No it doesn't, but you and your baking sure do. So I'm going to go get dressed then you and I can finish up breakfast and have a lazy weekend. Deal?"

Pen nodded and watch as he padded softly back out of the kitchen.

. . .

Friendship... is not something you learn in school. But if you haven't learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven't learned anything.

**Muhammad Ali **


	12. Zugzwang

**Series 8 One-shots: Zugzwang**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**I couldn't ignore a bit of Reid/Morgan for this episode. I took some of my inspiration for this from when Hotch lost Hayley in Series 5 and in that case 'the rules' seemed to blur too.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Reid:** What if that's all get?

**Morgan: **Well it's not.

**Reid:** You can't say that?

**Morgan: **Yes I can.

. . .

Derek stalked silently to and fro across the dingy room as he kept watch over his younger colleague.

He was openly aware that his, and his team's, actions were against protocol in such a situation. Though he wasn't even sure if there were guidelines for a situation like the one they had all just witnessed. Watching Diane take her own and Maeve's lives with one shot while there was nothing any of them could do.

What they had seen was now eternally etched onto the minds of each of them. Derek knew there would be no forgetting the moment that the shot had been taken or how the two lifeless bodies had crumpled as they fell to the ground. Or the sound of Spence's heart breaking as he watched the woman he grown to love die before him. Seeing Maeve die before they had had the opportunity to explore what could have been.

Derek paused his pacing as he heard footsteps approaching; a deep growl resonating from in him as he stood guard over his friend. He was determined he would have the time he needed to start the long process of acceptance.

The team had silently agreed to allow Spence the time to be with Maeve. They has worked together to keep others from entering the scene and processing it. In doing so they were giving Spence the chance to add one more hour to the 2412 that he had shared with Maeve so far.

Watching the solid door open slightly Derek was ready to bark at any poor person who tried to gain entry. However he was quick to realise that it was Hotch who was interrupting them.

The solemn nod of his superior's head had instantly let him know that it was time to draw things to a close. Derek knew he has the job if convincing Spencer to move on and leave Maeve in the careful hands of the ME's technicians and crime scene investigators. However he also knew how it felt to be taken away from the body of someone you love - the feeling of finally physically letting go and simultaneously giving up hope that they will wake once more.

With Diane already dead the processing of the scene was a formality to enable them to complete their paperwork and evidence what they had witnessed. It was a way to draw a very definite line under the whole event. Though Derek knew that it wouldn't be enough.

Derek nodded back at his Unit Chief before he took a step towards his grieving friend. Derek crouched down beside the broken form of Spencer Reid. Now able to see clearly his tear stained cheeks. His ruffled hair haphazardly tucked behind his ear, while random pieces fell forward obscuring his features.

"Hey Kid, it's time to go." Derek spoke softly so as not to surprise his silent friend. He followed his comment by gently laying a hand on Spencer's shoulder. Squeezing lightly Derek tried to bring Spence out of his turbulent mind and back to the here and now.

Spencer had Maeve drawn up onto his lap. He repetitively smoothed her dark blood matted hair as he held her close to him. Holding onto her dead body as if his own life depended on it. All sense of not interfering with the crime scene gone. Right now there was no room in his life for logic.

"Spencer, I need you to let Maeve go and come with me." Derek spoke a little more forcefully this time, trying to penetrate the shell Spencer had around him, "The scene needs to be processes now. We need to leave things be."

Derek leant forward, trying to pull the younger man towards him and away from Maeve.

Surprisingly he gave easily, allowing himself to be guided from the closeness of Maeve and into the security of Derek. Spencer allowed his friend to lower Maeve's body back to its resting place on the cold concrete floor. Motionless he watched as Derek softly let her rest once more, covering her from view as a final sign of respect.

He didn't protest when Derek practically lifted him to standing, supporting him as they made their way out from the room. Together, along the dark corridor towards the entrance, Spencer took comfort in the strong arms that encased his numb body. He knew he was moving but was unaware how as his body did not seem to be responding to the commands his mind was screaming. His mind wanted to stay to curl up on the floor beside Maeve and never move again.

Stepping out into the cool night air Spencer was oblivious to the numerous sets of eyes watching him, not just his colleagues but others too. He had no recognition of the slight drizzle that fell, dampening his hair, face and clothes. He didn't feel the chill that caused his body to shiver before Derek wrapped the blanket from the back of the SUV around him.

He barely acknowledged Derek folding him into the SUV and securing the seat belt around him. The blur of familiar faces suddenly at the door way, each speaking but not one word registered with him. Nothing about the night felt real. It was as if he was watching the event from afar rather than experiencing it all first hand. Some twisted nightmare that he couldn't wake from.

"I'm taking you home Spence," Derek whispered before closing the door, shutting out the commotion around him.

It was obvious his friend was in shock and Derek knew how serious that could be and for that reason alone there was no way Spencer would be alone to night. The other reason being Derek knew the process that he was going through as he had been there himself.

He should see a Doctor but Derek knew that, given his personal history, Spencer would not welcome any prescribed help. He would fight this without sedation. The shock would need monitoring and Derek would not leave his side until he was certain that he was in the clear. It would also give him reason to take care of Spence, encouraging him to eat and drink.

Equally Derek wanted to make sure Spencer knew he had a support system should those particular demons of his choose now to rear their ugly heads once more. Spencer may not be strong enough to battle them alone.

Once in the driver's seat Derek glanced back, the dark shadows under Spencer's eyes seemed more intense, his skin had lost what little colour it had. Spencer was presently trembling as he stared out of the side window.

Starting the engine and putting the car in gear Derek pulled away; leaving behind the chaos that had broken his friend in ways he unfortunately knew would change him forever.

. . .

The shock of any trauma, I think changes your life. It's more acute in the beginning and after a little time you settle back to what you were. However it leaves an indelible mark on your psyche.

**Alex Lifeson, Musician **


	13. Magnum Opus

**Series 8 One-shots: Magnum Opus**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**I am sorry if this is not what you expected for this episode – but I don't always go for the most obvious prompts. Beside I was kind of challenge to do something with this prompt and I have a hard time turning down a challenge. Thank you nebula2 for encouraging me with this one – hope you like it. **

**Also I felt the need for something light hearted after the last one and what I have planned for the next one. I hope you don't think of Blake as OOC in this but it is hard to judge with how little we know of her.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Blake:** Reminds me of the Eighties . . . what?

**Rossi:** Do I even want to know?

**Blake:** Probably.

. . .

"So..." A Cheshire cat grin tugged mischievously at the corners of his mouth as he slid effortlessly into the creamy leather seat opportune her on the jet. There he sat and waited for her attention.

Alex peered over top of the text she has been rereading in preparation for her next lecture. "Remind me to speak to Hotch about getting some additional in-flight entertainment sorted," she said before returning to her book.

Dave's brows furrowed at her unprompted comment, asking the silent question – why?

"Well you are obviously getting bored during the flight otherwise you wouldn't be here annoying me." The smile of Alex's lips confirmed the playful nature of her comments, the sort that had frequently bounced between the two of them over the years. Their friendship had been built on brief moments of working together within bureau.

"Not boredom but natural curiosity," he clarified, leaning forward as he spoke his fingers interlacing as he made contact with the table, "So . . . are you going to explain to me why a seedy BDSM club reminds you of the Eighties? As my mind has been racing with possible answers as to why you would connect the two."

"You can calm down I wasn't a secret madam or such if that is what is concerning you." Alex had now placed her book down on the smooth surface that divided the two of them, giving Dave her full attention as she closed the text and rested a hand on top.

"Damn," Dave said with a smirk, obviously willing to tease his colleague, "there goes an enjoyable image I had for later. You know you, heels, leather . . ."

Alex wrinkled her nose at the thought of his comment, though she guessed she had played straight into that one. "David Rossi! Honestly it's not as exciting as I made it sound. I just felt the decor was very much the opulence of the 'New Romantic' flair."

"And that sort half truth is not going to satisfy my curiosity, I'm a demanding man. Besides haven't you read Fifty Shades? Red is all the fashion right now."

"I'll bare that in mind when I decorate the spare room." Alex picked up her book once more in an aim to finish the conversation.

Though they both laughed at her deliberately avoiding his none too subtle hint at an alternative lifestyle.

However Dave remained rooted to the spot, once more waiting for her to respond to his intense stare. Finally taking the bait Alex closed the book once more and lent forward, resting her weight on her elbows. "You see, the fact is that, considering your age I'm not sure you can handle the truth."

Dave eyebrows rose in tandem, watching carefully to assess the seriousness in her words. "Really? Now I am intrigued, I am a fairly open minded, not so old, individual. I doubt after all the years I have in this job you could say much that would shock me."

Alex considered his comment before resting her hands down on top of his, meeting his eyes full on "Well if you are sure, guess you can afford the medical bills."

Dave gave a slight nod of his head and settle back to hear her full confession – this should be interesting.

"I . . . um . . . how shall I put this? I met a guy, in a club, he was a little older than me. Honestly he was a lot older than me. It was my little teenage rebellion."

Rossi smirked, this was more like it, a bit of juicy detail on the latest member of the team.

"Well this guy, Jim, he liked to be in charge, you know take control. I was a young girl. It was impressive, so I did as I was told." Alex raised a single eyebrow, hoping he got her drift.

Dave leaned forward once more, glancing around the cabin as he did so; "I you seriously tell me you were his submissive?"

Closing the gap ever so slightly, Alex dropped her voice to barely more than a whisper. "I wouldn't go that far, well nothing official, just I made sure I behaved myself - unless I was in the mood for a spanking."

Dave visibly gulped; somehow this wasn't what he had imagined. Not that he really knew what he had expected to hear.

"Walking into that club was like taking a walk down memory lane, just like the places he use to take me too." Alex was now settled back in her seat, watching Dave process what she had said. "Though I have to say the last spanking room I was in was a lot less classy than that place. Guess that was the Eighties for you. Things have moved on."

Finally finding his voice, Dave sat up a little straighter, "Well, well you are a dark horse Agent Blake."

"And you are turning into a gullible old fool Agent Rossi. Really do I look like a submissive woman? I said it reminded me of the Eighties due to my mother's tendency to copy whatever unfortunate interior decorating fashion she found in whichever home style magazine she had to hand at the time. Would you believe we had a hallway just like the one at the club?"

Dave sighed, "Right now I have no idea what to believe. You are a very convincing liar, that or both stories are a lie and you don't really want to tell me what up got up to in the Eighties."

Alex shrugged and smiled. "I said you would probably like to know, I never said I was going to tell you."

"So your excessive eye-contact was all a ruse to get me to believe your stories."

"Maybe Dave you need to consider that some things are just not for sharing."

"Ashamed of what you got up to back then."

"No . . . no that I can answer honestly; I try my best to live my life without regret."

"And that is a wise thing to do." Dave stood to return to his original seat, "Though," he turned back to Alex, "I know this person who is very good at digging. It is amazing what she can find out – old work records, school photos, you name it."

"You wouldn't?"

"After that little trick who knows!" Dave smirked and walked away.

. . .

It was acceptable in the 80's  
It was acceptable at the time

**Calvin Harris, 'Acceptable in the 80s'**


	14. All That Remains

**Series 8 One-shots: All That Remains**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**Another serious one and for any of you that don't know me I really struggle to write JJ but didn't feel I could ignore her or this comment after this episode.**

**Thanks to Jakkah for finding me a clip with the necklace in for added inspiration. **

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**JJ:** If losing her mother didn't change everything I know losing her sister certainly will.

**Blake:** I didn't know. How were you when your sister died?

**JJ:** 11, she was 17

. . .

As the team returned to the bull pen JJ remained quiet. Not enough to drew attention to herself but reserved none the less. None of the team was surprised by her subdued nature. She had after all got up close and personal with a very convincing UnSub. One that was willing to kill JJ to save her innocent persona.

Breaking away from the team, who had been joined by Garcia, she headed over to her desk. Dumping her bags down by the divider she slouched down in the chair. Glancing up at the group she had left it was obvious they were already dispersing; Hotch had cleared it for them all to leave work early. A few nods in the direction of those that were leaving bypassed any need to speak. Her mind was focused on only one thing and she needed to clear her thoughts before returning home.

She opened her top desk drawer slowly, so as not to disrupt the contents. Immediately she could see what she had gone looking for. Just where she had become accustom to keeping it - having nearby at work had help to motivate, comfort and enlighten her. No matter how small it was her rock through the hard times, a constant reminder of why she was here doing what she did.

Leaning forward she tucked her chair under her desk as her elbows rested on the slightly cluttered surface. Tentatively she looked inside; the spring of the aged red box initially resisted her action until it finally submitted to the pressure.

JJ stared at the overly familiar item inside. Her finger automatically reached out and traced over the outline of the gold chain only resting once she reached the three small charms hanging from the centre. The necklace Katherine Jareau had given to eleven year old JJ.

JJ had remembered coveting her sister's necklace for so long, yet she had never wanted in the circumstances in which it was gifted. A lasting reminder of the last time JJ saw her sister alive.

Of the three charms linked together on the necklace the small cross represented faith. A faith she had once lost completely and was now something she had questioned over her years with the BAU. She had seen first-hand how belief had held families together yet ripped others apart. She had seen it fortify the strong and be used to make the weak conform. Faith had been blamed and named as the cause. Yet it had been the saviour too. Her colleague ranged from those with no belief to those with concrete faith.

Yet since that day, when her sister claimed her own life JJ had found little comfort in faith. Unlike her mother who had thrown herself into the daily running of the local church, as if somehow her hard work could compensate for Katherine's sin.

However JJ continued to question her own faith daily, until she realised the only faith she had left was in her team and their ability to help.

Behind the cross rested a small anchor which symbolised hope. Hope being the one thing she had frequently encouraged families to hold on to no matter what. Spending her time supporting them as she waited to hear if her colleagues had been successful or not. JJ had now progressed to being a profiler and one of the team out there hoping to reach the victim in time to save them.

The families having the hope that their love one would return and with it the hope that they would be unharmed. The hope that they would be able to have a normal life regardless of whatever they may have experienced.

However JJ found it was increasingly hard to have hope when experience taught you to expect the worse. How rare it was to save the victim that they sought. And for those they did save how often they had suffered at the hands of another. Then how were they to carry on, to live a normal life once they have survived the stuff of nightmares.

Of course when you are eleven you life is full of hope. Hope that you can make the team and win the match. Hope that you will be allowed cookies after school. Hope that one day you will have a necklace just like the one that your big sister has.

JJ couldn't help but wonder when she had become so jaded. She definitely never remembered losing her hope.

Finally a small golden heart lay with the other charms in her palm. Charity or love, two sides of the same coins.

Probably the one true virtue JJ had in spades. The one part of her that hadn't been tarnished by her past experiences; if anything it had been enhanced.

Helping others to live through their loss had become a part of her. Being an ear to listen in troubled times. Reserving her own judgments and opinions because that is not what is needed when you have just lost someone that you love.

Losing Katherine had change JJ in so many ways. It had taken away what remained of her childhood. All faith that she had had that life was full of happiness shattered. Her hope for a future where she would grow up with a sister who was also her best friend suddenly gone.

However her natural ability to calm and comfort others in their time of need remained. Her charitable gift to those in need shared through the career she loved.

If only it had been a gift she could have shared with her sister before it was too late.

JJ carefully closed the box and placed it back in her drawer. She didn't move straight away.

. . .

Hotch watched silently from his office window. He had become better at not being the last one to leave any longer. He had learnt the lesson of putting work before his family the hard way. However if he was concerned for one of his team he made sure he stayed until he knew they were ok. If they left before he had chance to speak to them then he would check up on them before he relaxed at home. Just like he had learnt to mourn the loss of his family he had also lost colleagues to the pressures this job created and as Unit Chief he felt responsible for his team's wellbeing.

He watched as JJ placed the small red box back in her drawer. He knew what it contained and it gave him a clue as to where her head was right now. Collecting up his things he made his way down to JJ.

"Are you ok?"

Hotch's voice broke through her thoughts. Turning to face her superior she smiled.

"I am now."

"It is amazing how some days it all just catches up on you."

JJ nodded. Time could heal, but it couldn't remove the scar. That was there for life. No matter how it faded there was a permanent mark on your soul.

"Just needed a moment before I went home."

Hotch nodded understanding fully how she felt. Without another word JJ collected up her things and together they left. Returning home to the families that gave them the strength they needed to do this job.

. . .

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

**1 Corinthians 13:13**


	15. Broken

**Series 8 One-shots: Broken**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**I found this episode really hard to get a prompt from, I did consider another JJ and her response to the camp but it wasn't working. So I went for this instead. **

**. . . **

**Prompt**

**Reid:** So stupid it was literally staring me in the face the whole time. I don't know how I missed it.

**Morgan:** Come on Reid stop! You're the only person who can realise all of this.

. . .

Spencer had a book open in front of him but he wasn't reading. In fact he had had the same book in his bag for over a week and was starting to get more than a little frustrated at his lack of ability to read.

Books had always been his comfort, the safe place he could retreat to when he felt it was necessary. They had held him, captured him and supported him. Yet now, when he needed them the most, they were empty. The words washed over him on the rare occasion that he could focus long enough to attempt to digest them.

No matter what he choose to read as soon as he sat down his mind was with Maeve. He would hear her voice; their conversations playing out in his mind over and over again. And now, on the flight home, was no exception.

As he had sat trying to read his mind had wandered and he gaze fixed on a blank point in the clouds.

. . .

Sat back, his music drowning out his thoughts, Derek glanced up. He watched as Spence sat there a million miles away even though he was physically in the jet with them. Derek's brow furrowed as he watched the pained expressions mar his younger colleague's face.

Derek knew what it felt like to grieve. Even now he felt the pain of watching his father die in front of him as if it had only been yesterday. Watching Spence suffer that same pain was excruciating and he wished that somehow he could take it all away for him. Remove the agony and return the shy smile to his features.

Getting up Derek made his way through the jet to make a coffee.

. . .

Spence startled as the steaming mug was placed in front of him. Looking up he was not surprised to see Derek hovering over him.

"Looked like you could do with a coffee Kid." Derek smiled and sat down opposite, placing his own mug down on the table.

Spencer squirmed uneasily, aware of Derek's ability to read him like a book.

"You know you did good, working out the whole time code thing. Without that bit of information I doubt we would have ever got the link to Camp Willing."

Shrugging slightly Spencer withdrew into the comfort of the leather seat, taking his book with him. He held the text open across him as if it were a shield.

"I mean it Reid, you're an important part of this team." Derek took a sip from his coffee, taking the time to observe Spencer's reactions. The kid had kept himself busy and when he was immersed in the case you could truly believe nothing had happened. However Derek had spotted how uncomfortable he became during the down time. The flights home he was silent, no more card games or puzzles. He barely touched the book he brought with him. Mugs of coffee were left to go cold. It was obvious that when it all died down Spencer struggled with his memories.

Derek deliberately placed his cup next to Spencer's and leaned onto the table, resting his weight on his forearms. He took a moment, waiting for Spencer to meet his gaze.

"I know what you are going through. I know how it feels, how it all creeps back up on you. You are fine when you are focused but the minute that goes then the barriers open and all the ifs and buts rush in. There was nothing I could do to save my father and it has taken me many a year to understand that. There was nothing more you could have done to save Maeve."

Spencer blinked, the shear horror of her name being spoken out loud was written across his face. This was not what he wanted to talk about right now.

Derek immediately picked up on the fact he was making his friend uncomfortable. His fingers laced together as he leaned in a little further. Dropping his voice to barely more than a whisper he spoke. "All I'm trying to say is don't be so hard on yourself. I know all the corny time heals lines but the truth is that the pain will fade, however it will never go away. This is still raw right now, you've got a lot of healing to do."

"I can't focus. I try but I can't," Spence whispered, so quiet that Derek wasn't even sure he was speaking to him to begin with. "I can't read, I swear I have forgotten facts that I previously knew, it is taking me longer to figure things out. . ."

"Will you listen to yourself and cut yourself a bit of slack Man," Derek tone was forceful even if his voice remained quiet, "You are grieving. You have lost someone very important to you. This is all perfectly normal."

Spencer gave a weak smile, "Guess I'm not use to being normal."

Derek grinned back, glad to see a glimmer of his old friend. It was obvious that Spencer continued to struggle and would for some time to come.

"Have you been back to visit her since the funeral?"

Spencer shrugged, "A grave is purely a storage space for a decaying body."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Now I know you don't believe that. You may not have a recognised faith, but I know you have had experiences that have made you question what happens after. If you don't want to go alone I am willing to come with you."

Spencer nodded slightly before pulling his open book away from his body, making clear the conversation was over.

. . .

Derek stood back giving Spencer the space he needed. He watched as his friend sat down by the grave, it was obvious from his body language that he was uncomfortable, but Derek hoped he would begin to relax.

The light drizzle from first thing had lifted and the sun was trying to break through the clouds. So far it was having little success and without it the air had a definite chill. Even so it was clear that it was more than the weather that was causing Spencer to quake.

Soon Derek was aware of the sobs that accompanied the movements. Stepping forward he was soon by Spencer's side, holding on to him to offer comfort.

"I . . . loved . . . her."

"I know you did Kid, I know you did," Derek soothed, "and so did Maeve. She knew."

"But I . . . never . . . told . . . her."

"That doesn't matter, you can tell her now if it helps, but I know she knew."

Spencer pulled away from Derek, tracing his fingers over the fresh lettering of the marker.

"I love you too."

. . .

Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.

**Aristotle, Greek Philospher **


	16. Carbon Copy

**Series 8 One-shots: Carbon Copy**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**Just realised I hadn't done any Strauss for this series and I couldn't miss her out. So here it is. Plus I loved this line and Rossi's reaction to it in the show! In fact I think it was a great Rossi episode, he had some fantastic lines.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Strauss:** Alright, well, I'll tell the Director if he takes you off the case it's either with my resignation or over my dead body.

. . .

With one arm wrapped around her waist and the other propped on it, holding her glasses as she gnawed nervously on the extended arm, Erin paced across her office floor. She hated waiting at the best of times. Patience may be virtue but it was one Erin was long aware she didn't possess.

As she completed another lap of her plush workspace Erin stopped by the window staring out in to the space below, not really seeing anything as her mind continued to whirl with possibilities of what this latest threat to her team meant for all of them.

She let out a soft snort. This was the problem when you let yourself care. The 'old Erin' wouldn't have been this weak she chided. Though she knew she had come too far in the last twelve months to slip back to her old ways.

Being an ice queen has cost her a high price. She had lost friends and family through her old ways. People had got fed up with her distancing herself from them. Her remote nature had not been seen as a strength but as a barrier.

However even with that carefully constructed wall surrounding her, Erin had fallen because she hadn't been able to save herself from the corruption deep within.

She had been so busy watching others for signs of weakness that she could exploit that she had totally missed how the alcohol was taking hold. She had seen how one glass at the end of the day had regularly become two. She had been happy to ignore how she had then felt the need at lunchtime for a small one to get her through the afternoon. It had quickly become easier to stick her head in the sand then accept that it was not normal to have a shot or two in your morning coffee just to kick start the day.

Of course she knew what she was doing was wrong, otherwise she wouldn't have spent so long hiding the evidence. Maintain the facade for all to see. Besides it was easier to lose track when you had a random bottle hidden in every drawer, cupboard and filing cabinet. Never drinking from the same bottle twice in a day lessened the impact. Soon vodka had become her only remaining friend.

Yet that wasn't the extent of her problem, it was merely the foundation upon which everything else rested.

The single malt scotch that decorated the corridors if the powers that be, declining when one was offered was a sure fire way to reduce your chances. After all if you can't keep up with the boys over a drink what other short fallings would you have?

The wine with dinner, that she and Jim Strauss had become accustom to. Of course that would lead to a nightcap before bed once the bottle had been finished. Though at least it had made it bearable to continue to lie next to a man she had grown to despise. A drunken stupor could mask a lot.

Then there were the functions - needing to remain effortlessly in control while sipping glass after glass of champagne was a skill she had rapidly acquired.

The day that Aaron and Derek had confronted her would be lodged in her mind for eternity. At the time she had been furious. How dare anyone doubt her? How dare they break down her defences and attack? But they had.

They had seen clearly what had been going on. She should have stayed away from them. Following her top team of profilers into the field, did she really think she could hide from them?

The answer had been evidently not.

That day had stunned her. Anger had battled with shame as her dark secret had stumbled into the light. Watching Aaron reveal bottle after bottle hidden around her office – surly they were not all hers! Yet now, as she came close to receiving her twelve month sobriety coin, Erin viewed that moment as her saviour day.

From that point on she had begun to live her life, not hide from it. Now she realised that strength came from embracing her weaknesses not masking them. She didn't need to keep up with the men who flanked her; rather she needed to bring her own perspective to the proceedings. Erin had renewed confidence in her decisions and was no longer ashamed if she didn't know the answer. She talked to people not at them. She led rather than controlled through threats. She had learnt to listen to others and show an interest in what they had to say. And she was a better person for it.

She was a happier person. She had left her loveless marriage the night Jim had offered her a glass of wine and told her to get over it. He was not willing to support her through her battle. However David Rossi had been. The man that had done more than his fair share in causing her to drink in the first place was there by her side, making sure she did not fall. He was on call twenty-four hours a day and came to her aide at the drop of a hat. Now he remained at her side – not to help her stay sober but as the man she had come to love.

Then there was the rest of team. How she had despised them and wanted to destroy them. However, with a very real threat of destruction hanging over them, Erin had become protective. She was proud of them, respected their skills and abilities.

Aaron Hotchner, the fearless leader and devoted father. He balanced the thin line between home and work that she had failed to walk over the years. Aaron held the respect of his team. His stoic nature disguising the emotions that ran deep below. Aaron could have destroyed her the day that he found out about her problem, she sure would have done had the tables been turned. Instead he had offered his help regardless of all she had done to him over the years. It only added to her shame.

Then there was Derek Morgan, the man that had put two and two together. She would not deny there had been plenty times over the years that she had disliked the ever charming individual. She had agreed to him acting as Unit Chief in Aaron's absence in the hope he may hang himself. Instead he did himself proud. Through her rehab she had seen a compassion she hadn't known Derek possessed. He wasn't the man she had stereotypically assumed he was.

Of course there was Dr Spencer Reid, Jason Gideon's pet project. She really hadn't expected him to survive so long. Reid wasn't your typical field agent. Yes there were others like him in the FBI, mostly squirreled away in a cupboard analysing traffic reports or other such essential information. However the young genius had broken the mould. He had proven everyone wrong, her included. But what she admired the most was that he had battled his own demons and survived, and if he could do then so could she.

JJ was ultimately the one she was jealous of - effortlessly superwoman. She was Mom to that beautiful little boy, now wife to the charming Will and elite profiler. She made it look so easy, but Erin knew the struggle she faced. She had felt the guilt of missing her kids' performances, for not being there to bath them and read them a story. Erin had grown resentful of the men that didn't need to worry about such things and let it taint her own marriage.

Alongside her was her bubbly blonde friend, Technical Analysis Penelope Garcia. Erin had long envied her carefree attitude and free spirit. Penelope defied every convention going.

And finally the newest member of the team; Blake, Erin sighed deeply at how she had badly wrong the fellow agent to save herself. That was typical of how she had been even back then. Kicking people when they were down and scrambling straight over the fallen to reach the top.

Slowly Erin turned away from the window and returned to her desk, her mood heavier then it was before. She didn't like the thought of her team under attack. Even less she liked the idea that they may not be able to defend themselves. Picking up the phone she took a deep breath and dialled the Director's extension. It was time for to take a stand for the team after all she owed them.

. . .

A person who deserves my loyalty receives it.

**Joyce Maynard, author**


	17. The Gathering

**Series 8 One-shots: The Gathering**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**I just had to do this for a bit of fun. Thanks to those on Facebook who helped me with ideas for the list. Sorry this is obviously shorter than the others due to it's nature.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Garcia: **It's number 32 on my 'I don't want to call it a bucket list' bucket list.

. . .

The not a bucket list, bucket list if Penelope Garcia, aged 30.

1. Learn to speak French - DONE

2. Visit Paris.

3. Ride a motorbike – Mmm Thank you Hot Stuff - DONE

4. Write a story.

5. Have my palm read – Pft what does she know really should I tell him how I feel?

6. Meet the Queen.

7. Marry Prince William – Damn Kate beat me to it!

8. Learn to surf.

9. Have a Disney marathon and watch 10 movies back to back - DONE

10. Read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.

11. Learn to knit - DONE

12. Knit my own jumper - DONE

13. Visit Madame Tussaud's in Hollywood and have my photo taken with Marilyn Munroe.

14. Travel Route 66.

15. Go on an art tour of Italy.

16. Walk Hollywood's Walk of Fame.

17. Learn to Salsa dance – DONE with Ms Emily Prentiss

18. Date an older man.

19. Perfect a pasta sauce – DONE Thank Mr David Rossi – Super Agent

20. Find my real father.

21. Learn to Scuba dive.

22. Have a toy boy.

23. Travel across Europe.

24. Learn to belly dance.

25. Attend the Las Vegas Star Trek convention at least once.

26. Complete a charity fun run.

27. Make my own red velvet cupcakes.

28. Learn to speak Italian.

29. Attend my High School reunion – DONE – flashing my FBI credentials was uber brilliant

30. Get married.

31. Take up Tai Chi.

32. Learn to play the Ukulele

33. Make my own candles.

34. Give up caffeine – for a week.

35. Learn to snorkel.

36. See a Hawaiian sunrise.

37. Visit Texas renaissance festival.

38. Touch the TARDIS.

39. Organise the ultimate 50th Birthday – why grow old gracefully!

40. Sing at karaoke – DONE

41. Write a children's book.

42. Try to parasail

43. See Fireworks from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

44. Learn to make cocktails – DONE and had great fun sampling them

45. Go on a Murder Mystery weekend.

46. Complete a tour of New Orleans spookiest places.

47. Have children – hopefully a boy and a girl.

48. A hot air balloon ride - DONE

49. Learn the Tango.

50. Make amends with my brothers.

. . .

What you get by achieving your goals is not as important as what you become by achieving your goals.

_**Zig Ziglar**_**, author, salesman, and motivational speaker**


	18. Restoration

**Series 8 One-shots: Restoration**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**Can I start with an apology for taking so long? I got distracted by another story as a request for someone and also I may just have had to watch this episode several times (for research purposes obviously). I think this has to be my single favourite episode of the series. I LOVE a troubled Morgan. The only thing that was missing was, in my opinion, was a little MoReid. So here it is. And before you suggest it nebula2 yes this might be the start of something more! **

**For any of you that are interested I wrote a one-shot called 'Facing the Truth' before I saw this episode which was what I thought Morgan's reaction to seeing Carl Buford would be.**

**So that said here goes my lovelies.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Morgan:** Carl Buford is dead.

. . .

Trudging slowly along the hall towards the source of his annoyance, Derek's head was already pounding without the additional hammering his front door was suffering. Whoever it was it had better be important.

As he pulled the solid wooden door wide open, hitting his knuckles as he did, he let out a loud curse. He was surprised to see the usually mild natured Reid had been the cause of the almighty din.

"What you doing here Kid?"

"Taking a leaf out of your book I believe," Spencer answered as he slipped sheepishly past Derek and into his house.

"Sorry?" Derek questioned gruffly, automatically shutting the door behind them as he followed Spencer towards his lounge. His friend had already disappeared into the room.

"I'm referring to you camping out on my couch when you brought me back from . . . Maeve."

Both men's eyes instinctively dropped at the mention of Maeve's name. In the moment of silence Derek instantly recalled how on the night of Maeve's death he had been the one to take Spencer home. In doing so it had given him a way of getting into his friend's apartment, which led to him being able to stay and oversee the first few days of Spencer's mourning. That was until the genius had tricked him into leaving only for him to return to a locked door with his go-bag dumped out front.

"This is not the same thing," Derek grumbled as he reached down to retrieve the open beer bottle from the table, downing the majority of the contents in a few swift slugs.

Spencer pulled his battered satchel over his head as placed it on top of his go-bag that already rested on the couch. "I think you'll find it is - at least at a basic level of our emotional psyche."

Derek flopped down into a large leather arm chair, propping his feet up on the dark wooden coffee table. "Please do explain how that is. This has got to be good even for you Pretty Boy," he sneered before taking a swig of the now warm beer.

"When you took it upon yourself to babysit me you did so as you were concerned about my mental state as I dealt with the shook of Maeve's death. You wanted to offer me support during the grieving process. I can appreciate that now, even if my clouded mind could not process it at the time."

Morgan's eyebrows rose, "You are not seriously comparing losing Maeve to what went down back home, are you?"

From his safe position behind the couch Spencer thrust his hands deeper into his pockets and just nodded, his lips twitching as he did so.

Derek snorted, before getting up to fetch another beer, not even thinking about offering one to Reid.

"Think about it Derek," Spencer called after him, "We have both lost people who had a significant impact on our lives."

In the kitchen Derek placed the bottle down as he clung onto the sink. This was the last thing he needed. Whether the kid was right or not was not the point. All he wanted to do was get drunk and get over it. He wanted to shift the feel of that man's hand on his, the sounds of his voice mocking him, those dark eyes watching for a hint of the turmoil he'd caused. Everything about the man made him physically sick.

Spencer moved into the doorway. He could just make out the outline of his friend, hunched over the sink, in the darkness and the unmistakable sound of him retching. He knew that no matter what pretence Derek built up over the coming weeks that this was going to be difficult for him.

"Maeve was the best thing that ever happened to me. She was so engaging and interesting and she was interested in me and what I had to say. Not because she had to listen professionally, but because she wanted to hear it," Spencer paused, his hands that had been active suddenly stilled. "Carl Buford was the polar opposite. He was a destructive force. He made you endure things I don't even want to begin to imagine. However he was still a pivotal part of your life. Like it or not he is responsible for some of the key traits in your persona."

Spencer had watched Derek tense as he had spoke but he still jumped when his friend spun round to face him. Even in the darkness the anger that distorted his features was clear.

"I made me who I am not him."

"I agree with that to a certain extent. You made certain choices which lead you to become the person you are but be honest Derek, would you have given up your life on the street if he hasn't of taken an interest in you?"

Derek glared at Spencer, his fists balled by his side.

Spencer continued, "The only difference between you and Rodney is that you used that turning point to change your life. You channelled the anger and hate and focused on getting as far away from your problems. I know because my problems may have been different but I did it to."

Derek turned towards the fridge. Right now he didn't have an answer for Spence.

"You find it difficult to trust due to his betrayal," once again Spencer's fingers were moving in time with his words. "You are over protective as you had no one to protect you. You have the ability to focus under extreme pressure because that was what you had to do for years just to survive. . ."

"Enough," Derek growled as he leaned against the fridge door.

Spencer stepped forward hands returned to his pockets now he had finished speaking. "I'm sorry . . . I have over stepped the mark. I merely wanted to show that I could empathise with you and offer you my support . . . I know I couldn't have got this far without you."

Derek suddenly pulled the fridge open and grabbed two beers. Popping the caps he offered Spencer one. "If you are staying you might as well join me. But only for one night I have things to do this weekend and I don't need you getting in the way."

Spencer took the beer, a shy smile gracing his lips; he'd accept that as a small victory.

. . .

A friend is someone who can see the truth and pain in you even when you are fooling everyone else.

**Unknown**


	19. Pay It Forward

**Series 8 One-shots: Pay it Forward**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**I have to admit I found this episode totally uninspiring. I nearly missed it out – first by accident then, after watching it again, on purpose. So this has to be the most tedious link I have ever made. Also though I have never intended to link one-shots in the past this does kind of follow on from previous ones and definitely leads to the next.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Sheriff Bob Collier: **You know those stages of grief you're supposed to go through . . .

. . .

Spencer shuffled nervously as he rose from his seat. He had always hated taking to the stand, having only sat and listened for the majority of the meetings he attended. Yet something was compelling to move. It would be this first time he had spoken at the Friday night meeting of The Beltway Clean Cops group since he had lost Maeve, even though he had become a regular once again.

The more familiar members of the group knew that he 'travelled' with his job; after all he wasn't the only FBI agent in the room. It had never been unusual for him to miss a few meetings then return for a couple. When he needed it he had made the effort to get there every week. It was the support that had been necessary over the years, but usually just being in the room and hearing others speak was enough to know that he wasn't alone. It gave him a strength that those who hadn't been there couldn't understand.

Taking his place behind the lecture stand Spencer cleared his throat as he fiddled with the piece of hair that was persistently falling into his eyes.

"Urm my name's Spencer," he bobbed his head down as he spoke, deliberately not meeting anyone's eyes. The group were a mix of those who had heard him speak for the first time five years before and others who had joined over the time. Though most of them had some awareness of his story and his struggles over the years.

"Hello Spencer," chorused the small gathering.

"I have been clean for 5 years, 9 months, 25 days and approximately 20 hours. I have found myself 'craving' the release I received from Dilaudid many times over that period. The worst of those times have coincided with major events in my life. I understand the connection between the extremes of emotion caused by such moments. In fact I have read several papers on the effects different emotional states have on the chemical balance of our brain and how this impacts on the function of the brain," as he spoke Spencer constantly fiddled; adjusting his tie, tucking his hair back behind his ears, even just entwining and unwrapping his own fingers, "But that isn't what I am here to tell you about."

Spencer gave a nervous smile as he glanced up, knowing he had managed to slide off topic already, though hiding in facts was much better then facing the truth.

"I . . . urm . . . recently I have been struggling to deal with . . . I," as he battled to find a way to say what he needed to he shuffled from one foot to another, his eyes cast down focusing on an imaginary spot on the stand. "I lost a friend . . . well she was more than a friend . . . or I hoped she would be . . . it's complicated."

There was a murmur of condolences that run round the members of the group.

"I'm afraid that the only way I can forget is to hide in the fog of Dilaudid. I am not craving as such, just in the middle of the night, when I'm tired and want to sleep but can't face the dreams I'm tempted . . ." Spencer risked a glance at those in the room, the look of pity on their faces made him even more uncomfortable, he hadn't admitted this feeling to anyone before tonight. "I haven't . . . but I . . . I don't know much longer I can resist."

Spencer paused; he hadn't really spoken to anyone about how he had been feeling recently. In fact he had become so automated in brushing off any enquiry into how he felt that people now rarely asked as they knew his response. He could tell they were still worried, the looks they shared the offers of dinner or something else to 'take his mind off things'.

"I know this is just one of the stages of grief. I have begun the journey. The initial shock numbed me and compared to some that I have read about I moved into the pain stage relatively quickly. I have had support from my friends. I didn't want it at first but in the end it helped. It was then that Dilaudid first started to haunt me. I knew that with a single dose the pain would go away, but I also knew that I didn't want to go back to my dependency. Maeve wouldn't have wanted it either. . ."

He had been honest with her; she had known him better than many previously. They had no secrets.

"After the intense pain came the anger. I have never really thought I was capable of such fury. It was strange, at times, as if I was watching someone else live my life. The smallest things would start to irritate me and I just couldn't let them be. I'd snap at those who were trying to help. Luckily none of them seem to have taken offence at the way I have been behaving. However, right now, I know I am in the 'depressive' stage. Knowing the stages in advance does not make it any easier to accept by the way. I have read several studies in the passage of time taken to overcome grief and how the different stages vary with different people, but none of it makes any of this any the easier. All I can do is focus on reaching the next stage . . . without Dilaudid."

Spencer moved away from the front, retracing his steps towards his seat but instead he made to leave. He hadn't come to hear pleasantries; he didn't even know why he had spoken. There was no sense in staying around to hear the words of encouragement. Instead he wanted to hide away once more. As he threw his bag over his shoulder and he took a step out in the night air a voice surprised him.

"Where do you think you are going?"

Spencer spun round, coming face to face with his sponsor. He swallowed; "Home."

"Not before we have had chance to talk."

. . .

"An intelligent person can rationalize anything, a wise person doesn't try."  
**Jen Knox****, author**


	20. Alchemy

**Series 8 One-shots: Alchemy**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**Sorry to say this is a little bit more Reid, but with Rossi this time! Enjoy (especially nebula2 – hope this fits your suggestion)**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Reid:** The effect it had was like a bad acid trip.

**Rossi:** That's not fun . . . trust me!

. . .

Dave leant back, sipping slowly from his tumbler; he surveyed the chess board in front of him. It had been several hours since Spencer had arrived. Dave hadn't been sure he would accept the invitation initially, after all Dave wasn't the first member of the team to ask Spencer to dinner recently.

The meal had been cordial enough. They had shared the usual pleasantries and discussed all relevant topics. On occasions Spencer had shown that brief flair of interest that lead to him divulging some trivia related to whatever they had been discussing.

Once dinner was complete Dave had challenged Spencer to a game of cards. His hope being that he could get the genius to relax that overactive mind of his. Dave wanted the distraction of the game to take over from the depressive fog that had currently descended over Spencer.

Dave had been in this job long enough to know the signs of each stage that Spencer had faced so far on his journey, and having been there himself he knew how vulnerable Spencer was.

Each of the team had witnessed the initial shock. Hell they had lived it with him. After that he had hid himself away as the waves of pain had hit. JJ had told Dave how bad his apartment had been when he had finally let them in. His precious books scattered as he had searched for answers to his multitude of questions. Though she had assured him that, as Dave had requested, there were no signs of drug use in there. Being able to move through stage two without using was a good sign.

As his closest friends each of the team had been on the receiving end of the angry outbursts that followed his return to work. The most petty things could set the usually mild mannered agent off on an outburst.

But now that had subsided and yet again Spencer showed his vulnerability as he did all he could to keep his mind active.

One game of poker had led to another and then a few more. Since completing cards they had turned their attention to chess. Dave noticed how Spencer seemed oblivious to the passing of time as he focused intently on the pieces left in the game. It made Dave wonder just how long it had been since the young genius had slept properly. After all he had always been notorious staying up half the might but this was something else.

It was now gone 3am and he showed no sign of relenting. Dave had tried a few subtle attempts at conversation during the earlier games but was no further forward then he had been before.

Dave had gleaned a small amount from Spencer during their last case. However he had no idea if anything had changed in the week since they had been back.

Dave decided to attempt a different tact. No random 'Uncle' stories this time, instead something much more direct.

"When I returned from 'Nam I decided that the best way to deal with what I had seen was to cover it up. That was when I first tried acid." Dave noticed how Spencer glanced nervously up from the board. At least Dave had had attention this time. "The first few trips they were pleasurable. A group of use to get together and take it, I went to my 'happy place' and it was a relief. Usually when I closed my eyes I saw the carnage of the war I had left behind. But on acid it was all fluffy animals and flying elephants."

Dave paused, taking a sip from his near empty glass. He watched as Spencer just blinked several times before moving his knight to take Dave's bishop.

"I continued to have regular meetings until one week when I couldn't wait for the weekend to zone out. By then the flashbacks had gotten worse. They were daily. That mixed in the paranoia was a lethal combination. After one particularly difficult day I headed out to find the dealer we used at weekend to help us get high. He wasn't in any of venues I was use to seeing. By then I was convinced I was being followed," Dave rested his glass down before he moved his queen. The movement was enough to startle Spencer. Dave settled back once more observing his companion's reactions. "As I searched for him my need to escape grew. Eventually, in desperation to run away from the images in my head, I accepted a deal from another man. Taking what I could get I was instantly surprised by how different it was. Usually we got together at someone's place to get high but foolishly I had just gone for it. But out in the open the drug was feeding my paranoia. However it was now monsters that were following me, huge furry ones with fangs. It seemed perfectly reasonable for this to be happening. As I tried to make my way home the fear grew. Once back my place I barricaded myself in hiding behind the couch as I listened to the monsters trying to break my door down. I could see them at the window whenever I dared to glance over the top. I eventually fell asleep there and woke the next morning in the same spot shaking like a leaf and exhausted."

Dave left his tale there. Now he returned to observing the young genius in front of him as he made his move.

Eventually Spencer looked up from the piece he had just taken and was turning it slowly between his long fingers. "I'm not using if that is what you are hinting at."

"I never said you were," Dave reassured. "However right now you are at your most vulnerable. I just want you to know that I am willing to listen, whatever time of night or day, without making any judgement. Acid is considered non addictive. However the relief of stepping out of reality isn't. I am not trying to compare my experience to yours, but I at least have a little understanding of your struggle."

"I have spoken to my sponsor," Spencer muttered, the chess piece still being twisted around.

"That's good to hear," Dave smiled warmly as he spoke.

"It was hard to tell him everything. To actually say what happened." Spencer's voice trailed off before he added softy, "at least you all know what happened."

"Have you allowed yourself to dream yet?"

Spencer nodded slowly.

"Good, it is all part of the process," Dave shifted in his seat, "look Kid, I know I am sounding a little patronising but you are doing really well. You're much stronger then you give yourself credit for. But you have got to give yourself permission to feel. No matter how hard those feelings are, embrace them."

Spencer gave a small nod, "checkmate," he muttered.

. . .

My friends and family are my support system. They tell me what I need to hear, not what I want to hear and they are there for me in the good and bad times. Without them I have no idea where I would be and I know that their love for me is what's keeping my head above the water.

**Kelly Clarkson ****, singer**


	21. Nanny Dearest

**Series 8 One-shots: Nanny Dearest**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**Another JJ one – with Hotch! The two characters I really struggle with. Though that doesn't mean I can ignore them.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Henry: **Why did you always go to work Mommy?

**JJ:** Well . . . Urm . . . because there are people out there that need my help. But I'll be back soon.

. . .

JJ starred aimlessly out of the cabin window, oblivious to the tumbling white cloud around them. Without any realisation of her actions, her fingers drummed slowly on the table. The pages of the open book in her other hand remained unturned. JJ's mind was already home even if her body had many more miles before it could share the same pleasure.

From his usual seat Aaron glanced up from the open file in his hands. The well being of his team was ultimately his responsibility and it was something he took very seriously. Right now he could tell something preoccupied his friend. She had isolated herself from the others as soon as she had stepped on the jet. Her carry-on bag has been dumped in the seat opposite her her, giving a very clear 'leave me alone' message to anyone who wanted to sit near her.

Finally giving in and putting the book down on the table JJ used her now free hand to pinch her nose, trying in vain to ward off the impending head ache that was gradually building behind her eyes. She was physically tired but her mind wouldn't let her rest.

Now watching intently Aaron contemplated his next move. He wanted to talk to her but it was easy to see that her defences were still well and truly up. Even if he managed to get past the physical barriers Aaron knew her carefully built mental defences were a whole different matter. Yet there was something about her state that concerned him. JJ was the sort that rarely showed that things had got to her, yet this evening it was written in bold across her face. No-one could ignore the fact, even if JJ wished them too.

JJ tried lifting the book once more, but the words and letters all blurred into an incomprehensible jumble. She knew she needed to relax, she always promised herself and Will that she wouldn't bring the work home with her. No files, no photos and she tried to make this extend to emotional issues. Yet today she was struggling. JJ wanted nothing more than to be home tucking Henry into bed for herself. Not that she didn't trust Will to do it; she just needed to have her son in her arms. JJ needed to hold him, to see he was alright, in fact that he was more than alright, to see he was perfect.

Closing the manila file, that he was failing to concentrate on Aaron finally stood and made his way through to get a coffee. On his way he checked on the other members of his team. Dave and Spencer had shared the table with him, but were both engrossed in a game of poker. Laid out on the couch Morgan hand his iPod on and his eyes' closed. He passed Blake, who was sat on the opposite side of the plane to JJ reading a battered copy of a linguistics text, simultaneously making notes on a pad of paper. Happy that each person was suitably distracted, Aaron returned with two cups of coffee and hovered by JJ's side.

"Mind if I sit down?" Aaron placed the first coffee down as he spoke, his head indicating towards the seat with her bag on.

"Of course not," JJ replied as she reached across the table for her bag, though her tone made it clear her words were not the truth.

Placing his beverage down Aaron took the now empty seat. JJ watched him, a guarded look on her face as she waited for him to let her know what he wanted.

"Is everything ok?"

JJ glanced rapidly round the cabin, her eyes briefly stopping to check on each of her team mates. Satisfied no-one was aware of their conversation JJ nodded, "I'm fine, just tired."

A single eyebrow raised on Aaron's face before he could help it, "Really?"

JJ let her head drop, she should know better than to try and lie to Aaron. "You are lucky to have Jessica, to look after Jack."

Instantly Aaron knew what this was all about. It had been hard for him too. Like the parents he knew what it was like to know your child was in the hands of a serial killer. So too did JJ. Unfortunately for both their job had led them to put their family at risk. But the issue here was something different. Just like the parents JJ had to leave her son in the care of someone who had once been a complete stranger – Henry's Nanny.

"I am indeed very lucky that Jess has wanted to play such an active role in Jack life."

A weak smile crossed JJ's lips, "But at the end of the day it doesn't make him any safer then Henry. Jo, his Nanny, she's fantastic and he thinks the world of her."

"But . . ." Aaron urged her to continue.

"But . . . she's not me. She's not his Mom. What sort of mother does it make me if something happens to Henry while I am busy saving others?"

Aaron's head dropped briefly, he knew exactly how she was feeling.

"Haley used to say that I put the job first. That there was no point making the world a safer place if Jack didn't know what his father looked like. I learnt the hard way that she was right. Which is why I have changed the way I balance work and my personal life. When I am home, my time is Jack's time. At first I went over the top in an attempt to over compensate for the job and losing his mother, but I soon realised that he appreciated the simple things as much, if not more, then the grand gestures. You know baking cookies, camping out. JJ since you have had Henry you have changed. At work you are still as focused as ever, but when you leave the build you become his Mom. I have seen you mentally switch off from the job as you make your way down to your car. I have noticed your bag is no longer overloaded with case files. What sort of mother are you? In my opinion one of the best. You put Henry first when you are at home. You enjoy the little things like having a kick about in the yerd. You have a relationship with him – you know what he likes, his favourite food, toys, and friends. I am ashamed to say I have known mothers who are home all the time with their child but still don't know that because they aren't taking the time to get to know their child. And I'm not talking about the mothers of an UNSUB, this is some of Haley's friends."

JJ looked back at Aaron, "Thanks."

"Anytime," Aaron stood ready to make his way back to his unread files, "Oh and when you get in, give him an extra hug from me."

JJ smiled as Aaron walked away, glad that she would soon be home once more.

. . .

The balancing act of motherhood and a career, and being a wife, is something that I don't think I'll ever perfect, but I love the challenge of it.

**Kerri Walsh **


	22. 6

**Series 8 One-shots: #6**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**So another attempt at Blake – though have to admit having seen the series out I wish she had agreed to go to Harvard. But I will try my best to not let that show.**

**Please accept may apology for the delay but RL is leaving lacking in the writing department. As those who have reviewd and I have yet to reply I do really appreciate your support. I promise I will reply as soon as I can. Thank you.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**James Blake: **Alex I want to be a couple again.

. . .

Alex stared wide eyed at the ceiling above as she lay flat on her back adjusting to feeling of sharing a bed once more. Listening to James softly snoring next to her as his leg twitched restlessly, gently bumping hers as he drifted into a deeper slumber.

She felt she should be cuddled up to him, enjoying once more all that she has missed in his absence, but her mind wasn't prepared to let her rest. Instead snipers of her conversation with Reid intermingled with her own inner monologue, making her doubt the decision she had been so sure off only a matter of hours ago.

Turning onto her side she watched James as he slept, studying his features that had long ago been etched into her memory rather then there in front of her. Sleeping soundly his lips curled into a slight smile as he dreamed. She had missed his smile, his arms holding and reassuring that all was ok, his teasing, his humour, his presence. Yet now she was willingly sending him away so that she could fulfil her career choice. She had gone back on the vow they had made, that either could veto their previous arrangement.

James had stated his wishes clearly; he wanted them to be a couple again, in the traditional sense. No more long distance phone calls, no he wanted the real thing – the two of them in the same room, day in and day out. He wanted breakfast together, even if it was a rushed slice of toast and coffee on the go. He wanted to work out whose turn it was to cook when they returned home at night. He was happy to bicker over who put out the trash and who should stack the dishwasher - all the humdrum things that couples do. Things they hadn't done as previously their snippets of time had been so precious that to cook and clean and bicker would be a waste.

Sighing deeply Alex gently pulled back the cover and escaped from her mental confinement. Tiptoeing out of the room she grabbed a cardigan as she made her way down to the kitchen. Filling the kettle she decided that a cup of tea was the best thing in the situation. As she waited for the water to boil Alex leant against one surface as she stared out of the window opposite. The darkness of the night gave an eerily shadow to her beloved garden. It had been her solace in James' absence. So much time and effort had gone into developing and nurturing it to the blooming beauty that it now was. Was it selfish not to want to leave behind something that meant so much to her? It had comforted her and kept her sane when she had worried about James' whereabouts as another week had passed without a call.

Making the tea she took the mug and made her way out onto the decked area and sat in the wicker chair that dominated the far corner. This was her spot, where she came to read or think or plan. Wrapping her fingers around the hot mug she braced herself against the cool night air. Spring had not fully warmed the world yet and some nights there was still a slight frost. Though luckily not tonight.

Gazing across the lawn she made a mental note that it was in need of mowing once more, the past few weeks of rain had encouraged plenty of lush growth. To Alex this was home. She had set her roots and they were well established. Alex knew James had no such connections; he had spent a long time travelling from one area to another, living out of a couple of bags of necessities. James didn't know what it felt like to be settled, at peace, at home.

However Alex did and she didn't want to give it up. Spencer had been wrong; this wasn't just about her job – even if she had hid behind that excuse herself. There was much more to it. Yes she was proud to have made her way back into acceptance at the FBI and to finally gain a place in the elite BAU team of Aaron Hotchner's. But that was still only a splinter of the block that stopped her from agreeing to up and move.

She didn't just work at the FBI, she lectured too. She owed her students; she upped and left them too often as it was. Yes there would be a fresh set of faces, keen to learn at Harvard, but what about those she had started on their journey? Did they not deserve to have her see them through to the end? The combinations of the two jobs were as near as perfect as she could get. She feed her intellect with theory and practice.

Then there were her friends. She had made many over the years, if she had not then she would have surely gone mad alone in their home. She enjoyed relaxing with chilled glass of wine and good company. Getting together with her reading circle, whenever she was at home to discuss the merits of which ever book they had selected. Adding of course meals with her BAU colleagues to the list.

Yet still the biggest draw was the very bricks and mortar that made the home she had created. She had decorated it, much of it herself, the little faults in each room testimony to the lessons she had learnt on the way. Everything she had done in hope to welcome James home to stay one day, was all now laid to waste as he didn't see the effort she had put in.

"Don't you think it is a little cold for midnight excursions?" came a deep and sleepy voice from the doorway.

"I thought you were asleep?"

"I was, but I missed you."

"You haven't shared a bed with me in months, how could you miss me so soon?"

"I've missed you every night of every week of every month," James walked towards her as he spoke, crouched down beside Alex when he reached her, "You know I don't think I have been out here once in the time you have been away. Whoever you hired to do this did a great job."

A weak smile crossed Alex's lips as she held back a snort. "I did it myself."

"Really," James couldn't hide the surprise, "Since when did you like getting your fingers dirty?

"James I think there is a lot we need to learn about each other and how we have developed in our time apart. I love you, that will never change, but I do. I evolved, its human nature. We respond to our environment and the influences in it."

James laughed softly, "Now I can tell why you are such a good profiler. How about we return inside and you tell me a little more about all that you have been up to while I have been away. I get the impression there is a few things for me to catch up on."

Together they returned to the warmth of the house.

. . .

Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.

**Oscar Wilde**


	23. Brothers Hotchner

**Series 8 One-shots: Brothers Hotchner**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**I know in the US you got the last two episodes back to back, but not so over in the UK. Personally I liked them this way. They linked but I didn't think it was a strong enough link to put them back to back – but that's just my opinion. Anyone it leads to you getting two one-shots.**

**Sorry it has taken just as long – but I struggle with Hotch so had to watch the ep a few times to get a feeling for it.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**Sean:** Not even going to warm up to the big brother act.

. . .

It wasn't as if Aaron wasn't use to such grey surroundings but the interview room that currently held his younger brother somehow seemed darker and gloomier then any he has previously visited. Watching his brother be driven away by the patrolmen earlier had been extremely hard. It went against every natural instinct he had. Aaron had literally held himself back; he had wanted to wade in there and then, throwing his credentials about and fighting for his brother.

But then again what right did he have to play the defensive big brother when he had happily washed his hands of any responsibility for Sean years ago? Guilt washed over him again as he automatically sat opposite Sean, would they be here now if he had taken more of an interest in Sean over the last few years?

Slowly Sean looked up, it was obvious he was tired, "Thanks he muttered."

Aaron shook his head slightly, "Don't thank me yet."

The same wry smile twitched Sean's mouth, a Hotchner trait even if he had spent his life denying the link. "You came, that's a start."

Nodding Aaron laced his fingers together as he leant forward onto the table, his face showing the concern he felt - a rare occurrence for the eldest Hotchner. "I'm not sure how I can help Sean. I am no longer a lawyer and if I still were, I was a Prosecutor not Defence."

Sean snorted, "Yeah there's the excuse, sorry, I shouldn't have asked you. They'll find me whoever's on duty," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the closed door.

Aaron let out a deep sigh, "That isn't what I mean and you know it. I just might not be the best person for the job, but I am here for you none the less."

Slumping back in the rigid plastic chair, Sean dropped his gaze, "I'm sorry Man, I didn't mean to take it out on you. I'm just frustrated that I got into this mess in the first place. If I had listened to . . ." His voice trailed off as he contemplated confessing how he had previously ignored his brother's advice.

"We can all be wise with hindsight," Aaron added, saving Sean from the embarrassment completing his words, "I don't think either of us can judge the other on the mistakes we have made. They may be very different but in their own way equally destructive."

Sean nodded, for once agreeing with his brother. "They are being fairly understanding. I'll be charged but hopefully the judge will take into consideration how I helped."

It was Aaron turn to nod; he had hoped that the bigger picture would be taken into consideration. "I will find you a defence lawyer, one of the best, that is a given. I'm here to help you Sean, but I don't want this to be a one off."

"What you want me getting into more trouble so you can swoop in and rescue me? Think you have been listening to Jack's superhero tales again," Sean said with a smile, his mood suddenly lifting.

Aaron shook his head, smiling too at his brother's cheek "You know what I mean. I want this to be a new beginning. We have . . . I've let you down."

Sean leant forward, his head resting on his folded arms as he looked up as his brother. "Think we're both guilty of that one."

"I had no idea that things hadn't turned out the way you planned. You were so determined when you left. You had convinced me it was all possible, after all you have always been successful at everything you have tried."

"And you haven't – top shot lawyer and now Mr FBI Superhero. Hum, I've grown up in the shadow of how well you have done."

"Our father didn't think that when he sent me off to boarding school. He was afraid I was going to be a bad influence on you. I kind of did a few things I shouldn't have."

Sean sat upright, eyebrows raised, "This I have got to hear, because all I remember is goody two shoes Aaron and his long list of achievements."

Aaron shook his head as he dropped his gaze, "Trust me it's nothing I'm proud of. I acted out as a kick back to how _he_ was."

"Is that your way of telling me the conversation is over?"

"Dad was overbearing, strict didn't begin to describe it, as you well know. When I was younger I accepted it, I must have done something wrong, even if for the life of me I had no idea what it was. However as I got older I begun to work on the principle that if I was going to face his wrath it would be for something worthwhile. So I started to push the boundaries."

Sean said nothing, instead he just watched, waiting in hope that Aaron would continue.

"Guess I pushed the right buttons."

"That's it?"

"Sean the 'what' isn't important, all you need to know is I might actually understand how you feel more than you think. I'm not perfect and the reason I treated you the way I did in the past was because I was trying to save you from making the same mistakes I did. That was wrong of me; I should have supported your interests and let you know I was there no matter what. May be if I had you would have talked to me before things got this bad."

"I was afraid you would think I'd let you down," Sean admitted, nervously running his fingers through his hair, "and besides I couldn't stand the 'I told you so' moment."

Aaron smiled before he spoke, "As if I would."

. . .

Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero.

**Marc Brown  
**


	24. The Replicator

**Series 8 One-shots: The Replicator**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**Please do not get me started on the ending and Strauss – it is not something I want to discuss. Hopefully this will be a small tribute to an amazing actress and the fantastic character she created. **

**In case it isn't clear when you are reading it I have written it as an out of body experience.**

**. . .**

**Prompt**

**The Replicator: **Did you get everything you wanted?

**Strauss**: What?

**The Replicator**: . . . in life.

. . .

It wasn't how she imagined things to be. She had heard of out of body experiences but pretty much dismissed it as fool hardy nonsense. Yet here she was watching the pathetic form she had been reduced to by his drugs and alcohol. He who had the audacity to sit next to her as it all took hold. If only she could gain control of her body and mind, if only for a moment.

One minute and she could regain the dignity he had stripped from her. She might not be a field agent but she could remember enough to bring him to his knees.

Frustration boiled in Erin as he placed his arm so innocently around her shoulder, so as to appear to every passing stranger as if he was taking care of the drunken fool she had became. If only she had forced him to pull the trigger, it would have been a much better than this.

Every last ounce of pride she had he had taken. Erin had done so well, she had been dry for just over twelve months. Twelve long hard months when any day, any hour it would have been easier to slip back into oblivion. Yet she hadn't. She had stayed strong, with help.

However now she was weak. Weaker then she had been to start with and he had reduced her to this. Whoever the hell he was. From her vantage point she recognised him, John Curtis, yet she knew her body and mind was having little contact with her soul. She remembered how he had fallen from grace alongside the others after the Amerithrax case. At the time Erin walked over anyone to keep herself on top. Curtis was just another of bodies that paved her way.

Now she was not proud of the way she had behaved but at the time it was the only way she knew how to keep her head above the water then - and for a lot of years following. What a fool she had been – a selfish fool.

Listening hard she realised he was on the phone, who was he taunting now? None of the team deserved it, but please not Dave, don't let it be Dave. He didn't deserve this, not after all the love and support he had offered her in the past twelve months.

Curtis had been right on one thing she had not deserved to be happy after all she had done to others. She had ruined people's careers to further her own and she had broken her own family to get where she wanted to be. Yet for the first time in her life she was happy, truly happy. She had found love and had cherished every second of it. But that alone was not enough, not now.

He was going, where was he going, the coward. He was just going to leave her there to die alone. Not alone, please not alone. "Look at me", Erin cursed as she watched herself stumbling close to the edge of the road. It was pathetic to watch. All of the years she had remained strong, kept a facade of an ice queen so those around her never came close to knowing her. Now she was reduced to a jibbering wreak.

Suddenly her eyes jerked away from watching her own faltering body. She could see someone running towards her through the hustle of the regular crowd. Aaron Hotchner, her one time nemesis. She had tried more than once to destroy the man, yet nothing had worked. Now he would be her saviour once more. Aaron was the first person to reach her through the alcoholic fog, more than her husband had managed, and he his was again rushing to her aid. Many others in his position would be willing to sit back and see her fail.

Mustering up what little control she had over her body Erin tried her hardest to help Aaron. She had things to tell him, information that might be useful, but what was it now? Damn she was fading fast, the energy it was taking to manipulate her body into doing what she wanted left her mind a mess. But she had a message from him, The Replicator; she knew she had a message.

Erin was touched by his concern for her, his care, but really she had to put her own needs aside for once, this was bigger than just Erin Strauss. She had to make him listen and quick, she really couldn't tell how much longer she had. Fever was mixing with a deathly chill as darkness encroached on her.

"He said he's going to race you home. Does that mean anything to you? You have to find him."

As she spoke Erin was stuck by the deafening silence that now surrounded her, all those people and she could hardly hear a thing, the odd mumble or murmur was all that was left. What was happening? Was this it? Was this what it felt like to die?

Yet through it all she could hear Aaron, loud and clear. She had to make Aaron understand, The Replicator made her do this. Aaron had to tell everyone that she had no choice. Not unless she had been less of a coward and picked an instant death. Oh how she now wished she had.

Her mind fogged, words and images swirled once more as she tried hard to focus on Aaron's words, her soul willed her on but she was losing all she had wanted to say. Did she know him? Yes, but no, she couldn't remember what she had once been so sure of. It had been him, but who was he? This one piece of information could really help, but it was lost among a mirage of memories flashing through her mind as she neared the inevitable end.

Oh God her children, he knew her family, seeing them through her mind eye sparked life back into her. She had to protect them. They had suffered enough because of her job over the years, now she had to make it right. If there was one thing that could keep her holding on then her babies were it. Once last chance to tell them she loved them.

However her body was failing, she could see that so clearly, Aaron had to promise to protect them. He was a good man, she knew that now. The team would keep them safe from _him._

This was it; she knew she had very little left. The darkness was now fully surrounding her; she found it hard to see what was right in front of her. Suddenly she was scared, for the first time in the whole evening she was full of fear. Even when he had held the gun to her head Erin hadn't felt like this. She was cold and alone. She tried to focus on Aaron's words, letting them bring her comfort as she seemed to fade further and further away. Leaving behind her body on a bench in a New York street. What a way to go.

She could feel his arms tighten around her, his soothing tones trying to make the transition easier for her. But to no avail. Erin struggled to let go, she wanted another chance. She had to make things right to so many people. She couldn't, she was too late.

As her soul began its journey onwards she heard frantic footsteps. Glancing back through the darkness she saw him. Dave was there, he had made it moments too late for her to tell him. She wanted him to know she loved him, that she was grateful for all he had done. That she would never have made it without him.

Seeing him standing there in front of her lifeless body, Erin paused, was this to be her purgatory? An ever after with the lasting image of the man she loved mourning her publicly. Watching as his heart broke in two at the sight of her. Seeing the guilt rise through him as he begun to blame himself for not being quicker and getting to her.

The scene disappeared as Erin turned away. Gone forever.

. . .

We live as we die, and die as we live.

**EDWARD COUNSEL, **_**Maxims**_


End file.
